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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103061">Moonshine Magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppy_wrinkle/pseuds/poppy_wrinkle'>poppy_wrinkle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alpha Talia Hale, Bad Alpha Talia Hale, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Cussing, Everyone Is Alive, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, My First Fanfic, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Slow Burn, Slow Updates, Stiles Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, We Hate Talia Hale, Werewolves, everyone WAS alive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:42:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>29,104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppy_wrinkle/pseuds/poppy_wrinkle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, Stiles is the Moon and Peter is just a werewolf finding his place in the world.<br/>Includes my own ideas about pre-show Hales and doesn't really completely follow canon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Danny Mahealani &amp; Lydia Martin &amp; Jackson Whittemore, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall &amp; Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Peter's Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first fic! No, I don't have a post schedule. Yes, I will give TWs (to my knowledge for how they work and the ones I know about). Yes, I would love feedback. Yes, I will probably be coming back to this often to edit it. Please, please, please, enjoy this fic and let me know how you felt about it in the comments!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Peter</p><p>When he was born, Peter was a feisty little werewolf. Not only feisty, but also incredibly skeptical and logical. The family knew he would one day become a left-hand, but they had to get him through childhood first. Once Peter could walk, there had to be an adult supervising him through the night because he would attempt escape at any moment. He never went far, just to a clearing in the preserve, but they had to teach him discipline young or he would never be an effective wolf. Soon enough, Peter began to grow out of his young houdini phase. The Hale’s were grateful, and most of them forgot about the phase. The only time it was ever brought up was to embarrass Peter at family events. </p><p>	Now don’t be confused, Peter never lost his obsession with the moon, he was a werewolf after all, but he did learn to adapt to it. The constant pull to the moon that he felt was manageable. He figured it was just his werewolf genes that always seemed to be getting in the way. </p><p>Peter was not only logical, but incredibly intelligent. Once he was old enough to know, his family told him about the role that he would play for Talia, his older sister. As a left-hand, he’d have to be merciless but also compassionate. It was his job to understand other pack members connections and keep them all working as a unit. It was also his job to take care of issues that may arise within the pack or near it. </p><p>Peter was happy to take the responsibility, but deep down, his wolf wanted more. He wanted to be the alpha. He wanted to be powerful. He wanted to have control. His lust for power was not something that would fade, but he did try to ignore it. He loved his sister, he loved his pack, and he loved his job. As a teen he went with his father on trips to learn about being a left hand, while Talia spent the time learning about being an alpha. She got to learn about how to control the alpha power, how to keep it controlled and how to help it flourish. He learned about tracking and how to demonstrate a pack's power to possible interlopers. Of course, Talia had a head start in her training, being almost a decade older than Peter. She had a higher status in the pack and she had the favor of their parents because of her ability to control the alpha spark. She took every chance she had to dangle it over him, both that she was older and also that she would be the Hale alpha. Peter didn’t hold it against her, mostly, she didn’t realize that she was being cruel. But it did build the base of resentment towards her. But, Peter couldn’t be a rebellious teen, there was too much resting on his shoulders. He made up for it by throwing himself into his work. He spent as much time as he could not in the pack house. Whether he was making allies or killing threats, he left the pack to their own devices. Granted, Peter was a left-hand, so he was around the pack enough to keep his bond alive, but he did not give them any more time than that. His parents figured that as long as he kept up with his responsibilities, they didn’t have to worry about it. Talia also didn’t think about what Peter was doing, figuring as long as he kept her safe, it would all be fine. </p><p>Something Talia did think about was starting a family of her own. In Peter’s teen years, he became the uncle to Laura and Derek, Talia’s… tolerable children. Peter didn’t take to either child as much as an Uncle should, but he was there for them. He was forced to be home much more often as they developed. Neither of them had the same escapist tendencies, but that didn’t mean that two toddlers were easy to take care of. Laura was a menace with her constant babbling and questioning everything. Derek was a menace with his clingy attitude and silent creeping. Peter had no safe spaces inside the house anymore. He couldn’t leave any doors closed after Laura ran into a locked door and knocked out at least three of her teeth, luckily they were baby teeth and she was fine a few weeks later, with a set of adult teeth. After that, Peter had no privacy. The only time he was safe was when he was in the bathroom, because even Laura knew not to go in there without knocking, or at least listening to heartbeats to see if anyone was inside. Derek wouldn’t let him sit in a chair without part of their bodies touching. Whether that meant that he was sitting in Peter’s lap or wrapped around his legs, Peter couldn’t do anything without contact of some sort. </p><p>It infuriated Peter, but he knew that it was important for a pack to be near new members, born or bitten, so he spent time with them. He taught them about the preserve and about Hale history. He helped them learn to control the shift and to grow into stronger members of the pack. He taught them about pack bonds and their importance. Peter, though still in his own teen years, helped the two grow into better wolves. Laura and Derek were infuriating, but he loved them dearly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Stiles' Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stiles' past. It's not super deep but here it is.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I realize that this one is WAY shorter, which wasn't really my intention but I don't want to burn this out before it's even begun. Don't get used to me posting everyday, please, because I don't have that level of work ethic. My apologies. I'm gonna have a pretty basic timeline at the end of this to clear up some confusion.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Stiles </p><p>Stiles Stilinski, a gangly, sarcastic teen, was not forced into the world of the supernatural, contrary to popular belief. He grew up involved in it, and learned early on that he was mostly alone in this town of magic and curses. He had his friend Scott and when they were young, they had Danny, Jackson, and Lydia. They grew up though. Danny, Jackson, Lydia, Stiles and Scott became two groups. Jackson and Lydia were always close, both being from rich families with absent parents. They never knew much about Danny, only that people who attempted to ostracize him for being gay weren’t the same the next day. There were rumors that Lydia and Jackson threatened their entire lives because of it, but whenever they were asked, they just gave each other a look, smiled with a glint in their eyes, and kept walking. </p><p>Scott stayed with Stiles but there was always tension there. Scott was smart enough to subconsciously know that something was different about Stiles, but not smart enough to realize it, which always made Scott a little uncomfortable around him, even though he ignored it. Even so, they moved through all the stages of life together: first crush, first heartbreak, first driving test, second driving test, fourth driving test, first license, first time a car breaks down and the many, many times it happened after, first fights, first makeups, and the first couple times where they both thought that they weren’t going to get better. Over all, they had a rocky relationship, but it was the only relationship either of them had. And then Scott got bitten. If Stiles really took a second to think about it, he would have realized that the bite was the beginning of the end. For Scott and him, for their blurry picture perfect relationship, and for the relationships that he had with everyone around him. </p><p>His father and mother were a very close couple. They probably gave Stiles a completely unrealistic view of love. But when Stiles’ mother died, his father and him fell apart. They tried their best, as anyone would, but it wasn’t enough. Claudia was what gave the family life, so when her light went out, there was nothing Stiles nor Noah could do to fix it. Of course, that analogy is taking it a little literally, because Claudia was the Moon. When she died, the spirit was supposed to go back to the moon. The light was truly supposed to go out. Instead, it all flooded to Stiles. Stiles became the host and an inappropriate, uncomfortable envy crawled deep into Noah and set down its roots. After all of that though, Stiles and him still looked out for each other. Stiles made meals for his father and kept the house clean and Noah didn’t ask questions when Stiles didn’t come out of his room for days and just excused any absences Stiles had. They had a system, Stiles provided answers Noah couldn’t find on his own and Noah helped Stiles with well… not much, but they were still a unit. There may have been a deteriorating relationship between them, but Stiles got his loyalty from his father, and they were connected for life. </p><p>Stiles' relationship with his teachers was pretty messy. He was incredibly intelligent and kept his school work turned in months in advance, but he also missed days, sometimes even weeks at once. He was a snarky kid, too. Most teachers like their students compliant, not challenging, which meant Stiles was immediately on most teachers ‘naughty list.’ The worst one was chemistry teacher Mr. Harris, the bane of Stiles’ human existence. The man was awful, he could hardly let Stiles breath without a detention. Stiles hadn’t had a decent teacher in years, maybe ever. But he didn’t let it stop him, he had been competing with Lydia Martin for top grade in the school since middle school, when grades started feeling real. Lydia may not have been as ahead as Stiles, but she was obviously doing the same work but better. Barely. </p><p>Stiles knew about the Hales, knew about their power, knew about their strength, and knew about their alpha. Talia Hale was a strong leader and a powerful alpha, but the one that interested Stiles was their left-hand. No one knew anything about him other than the fact that he was incredibly powerful and protected his pack like a left-hand should. There were whispers that he was meant to be the alpha, but he was too young and whispers that when the Hale family house was burned down, he’s the reason that they all made it out. But those were only whispers, and there was nothing to confirm them. When the Hale pack finally left Beacon Hills for New York, so Talia could continue her ‘alpha consulting’ somewhere that was more convenient and safe, there were no new rumors. Only additions to old stories about how the Hale left-hand once took out an entire branch of hunters that weren’t following the code, without backup. This type of wolf intrigued the Moon within Stiles, for she didn’t make such creative and powerful creatures without importance or purpose. There was a very small amount of interaction between Stiles and the Hales before they left, his mother had handled that communication before she died. She died the same year the fire took place, only months apart, when Stiles was only six.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1. Peter is born and has older sister Talia, 10 years older<br/>2. When Peter is 10, Laura is born<br/>3. When Peter is 12, Derek is born<br/>4. When Peter is 16, Stiles is born<br/>5. Talia inherits Alpha Spark when she is 28 (We are gonna go with her parents were old/didn’t want to be pack alphas anymore)<br/>-Peter is 18<br/>-Derek is 6<br/>-Laura is 8<br/>-Stiles is 2<br/>6. Fire happens when Peter is 22<br/>-Stiles is 6<br/>-Derek is 10<br/>-Laura is 12<br/>7. Stiles mom dies<br/>8. The Hales move to New York<br/>9. The Hales vibe there<br/>10. Stiles is going through high school when Talia is killed, alpha power doesn’t go to Peter cause he’s injured, Laura runs ‘home’ - to Beacon Hills - yada yada, similar to canon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Fire happens, no one dies, but some hunters are about to. Stiles and Peter have their first interaction (it's not as big as you're thinking).</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Peter </p><p>Peter wakes groggily to the sound of people surrounding the house. He can hear a liquid sloshing and can tell based on the acrid sent in the air that it is gasoline. For some reason, the sleep won’t leave Peter's body. His mind is now abuzz with fury and protectiveness, but he can’t seem to act on it. Subconsciously, he knows someone did something to the wards and the food, but he can’t think about that right now. Now, he focuses on getting his fingers moving. The jeers that are being thrown around outside the home infuriate Peter even more, which helps him shift. Once he’s shifted, the effect of whatever drug had been put into him wears off much quicker. But not quick enough. He hears the lighters flick, hears the sizzle as they hit the pools of gasoline outside the house, hears the roar of fire catching on the house walls and begin to climb in. </p><p>	If Peter were a lesser man, he would run. He would find a cave to heal and wait for the alpha power to wash over him when his sleeping sister’s body burned. If he were a slightly lesser man, he might grab the children as well. But he was not, that's not how he had been trained. </p><p>He flew out of his room, tearing the door off its hinges. He ran to Talia first. Grabbed her and her husband and threw them over his shoulders. Most of the hunters had left quickly after setting the fire, not wanting to be seen at the scene when firemen showed up. Peter broke through the window and set the two on the ground. They were both still sound asleep and Peter idly wondered why he woke up. He then leapt back into the fire, roaring as his skin deteriorated. That seemed to reach Talia and she shifted in her sleep. Peter found Derek and Laura in their rooms, both barely feet away from flames. </p><p>He didn’t have time to go back and try to save any of the books or resources that he had begun collecting, but it was probably just as well, because the entire left side of his body had been shredded by the fire. When he got out from the house, he saw a couple of hunters walking tentatively towards his paralyzed sister and her husband. Peter wasn’t sure he had anything left in him, but he gave a roar and his blue beta eyes flashed at the hunters. They saw him, sizzling and bleeding, and turned tail and ran into the woods. Peter knew at a later date he would chase them down, but not today. Today he crawled over to Talia with her children in his arms. He dropped them down next to her and staggered away. He didn’t want them to see him like this. Once he heard Talia waking up, he dashed into the forest. </p><p>There was one place in the preserve where Peter could have privacy and safety, the Nemeton. It was imbued with old magic, he could sense it, but for some reason it let Peter find it. This was where Peter went, whether he was completely aware of it or not. He weaved through the trees, ignoring the screaming pain he was experiencing through his whole body. The plants had enough kindness to bend away from the werewolf as he headed to the Nemeton. When he reached the tree, the flow of magic over his body was cooling and kind. He promptly passed out once he reached the roots, knowing it would keep him safe. </p><p>Something that is important to remember about werewolves, is their healing can be picky. Depending on the reason for the injury, who or what caused it, and how the werewolf interacts with the wound, the healing can be completed. The fact that Peter ran into a fire for his pack delighted the magic that flew through his veins, but the fact that he ran to the Nemeton when there were hunters in the area angered the magic deeply. So Peter healed, but he did not heal fully. He was left with horrible scarring on the left side of his body. Not enough to hinder movement, but enough that other ‘weres would always know that he did something to anger his wolf when trying to heal. </p><p>When Peter woke up days later, he knew he had done something wrong. He could see the scarring. It didn’t hurt anymore, not physically, but it would be a mental wound for a long time. He made his way back through the forest, catching and cataloguing the scent of every hunter he could. When he reached the house, he was sick. This place that he had grown up in, that his niece and nephew had been growing up in, was now barely more than a pile of cinders and ash. There was police tape up around the house and a few firemen there to make sure that the fire didn’t reignite. He stumbled over to them. When they saw him, there was fear and confusion in their eyes. One rushed over to him and pulled off her jacket and gave it to him. </p><p>“Peter Hale? Are you Peter Hale? Your family is safe. They’ve been very worried about you,” she said, “would you like me to take you to them?”</p><p>Peter’s shoulders dropped as he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. They were safe. He made eye contact with the woman and nodded. He would like nothing more than to be surrounded by his pack. </p><p>“Okay, come on.” she said soothingly. They had a car for the fire chief, who readily sacrificed his ride home to the woman and Peter. The woman gave him a change of clothes and gave him a few minutes to get changed. They then got into the car and began the drive to Beacon Hills Memorial. The drive is excruciating because Peter can feel his pack getting closer, but not fast enough. He wishes he could just run to the hospital because this woman is following the traffic laws to a tee. She doesn’t even go over the speed limit. It’s brutal, but Peter knows that it is necessary. It would’ve been worse if Peter showed up at the hospital, 70 miles from the house. He has to check up on the pack, then get down to business with hunting down the hunters. They would pay for what they did, if Peter had anything to say about it. </p><p>	“Peter, I am so glad you’re ok. When they couldn’t find you outside the…. House, we thought you were dead.” Peter knew she was lying. Not sure about what, but she was lying, he heard her heartbeat skip a beat and saw the glint in her eyes. He nodded to her but turned towards Derek and Laura to scent them and make sure they were ok. They seemed very relieved, but he could smell the fear in the air, knowing that he likely was the reason for that fear. He did not feel remorseful for running and healing somewhere safe, but he did wish they didn’t worry so much about him. They should know by now that he could handle himself. Laura was almost a teenager, for goodness sake. Nonetheless, Peter stayed in the crowded hospital room for a long time. When eventually it was night once again, he made to leave without a goodbye, but he could feel Talia’s eyes on him. </p><p>	“Wherever you’re going, it better be to get those fucking bastards,” she growled at him. They may not get along, but their heads were in the same space when it came to pack. He flashed his blue eyes and turned away. His mind was racing with murderous thoughts and anger. He pictured all the ways he would string up these hunters to demonstrate what happens when you mess with the Hales. He also knew that they broke the code, so no one but their own friends would be trying to stop him. Caught up in his head and walking through the abandoned hospital, he didn’t think to notice what was in front of him, that was, until he almost ran into an amber eyed toddler. He barely noticed the thing, small as he was. He stared up at him with forlorn eyes. Peter didn’t know who this child was, but all of a sudden he felt an odd touch at his heart-strings. He broke eye-contact quickly and kept going down the hallway, but he could feel those bright eyes on him all the way through.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, I have decided that Cora is going to come later. She'll probably be in the next Peter chapter.</p><p>Edit: Cora is just gonna... be there. She's not important in this story, so if she's mentioned, sick. She might not be, so if you really like Cora... idk what to tell you.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Growing in Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stiles experiences his mother's death, then grows up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Time skipppp. Stiles is little. Only for like... the first few paragraphs, but just to get you into the right headspace, Claudia dies the same day the fire happens. There is a reason for that, we will get to it later. Like... much later.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles</p><p>His mother was dead. </p><p>Stiles had been sitting in the room when it happened, when the erratic beeping turned to a tone and the doctor's finally stopped swarming her. She had signed a piece of paper at the beginning of the sickness that Stiles dad had begged her not to sign. Stiles couldn’t remember what it was, something about her death. He thinks this is where it must come into play. His mother had been writing on the bed for a few minutes before she flopped down, head lolling and eyes dull. For some reason they turned bright white for a moment, when Stiles and her made eye contact. He thinks it must have just been the lights catching in her eyes. But now she’s dead. A nice nurse lady with pretty brown eyes and wavy brown hair walked in and covered her with a sheet. She, as well as some of the doctors and the hospital counselor, tried to move him from the chair, but he couldn’t bear to leave her. Not without some sort of good bye. He decided that he had to at least wait for his dad. He wouldn’t leave until his dad could come say goodbye. He was working a long shift, as he had taken to doing as the sickness progressed, so he couldn’t come to the hospital right away. In fact, the hospital was still trying to get ahold of him. Stiles didn’t know that, all he knew was that for some reason, he could hear voices in his head talking about a weak host and how the new host better be stronger.</p><p>This confused Stiles a lot. Not the voices, no he was used to tons of different voices talking in his head at once, but none of these voices seemed to be talking to him, or his other thoughts. Usually he has conversations with the other things in his head, but these voices didn’t seem very interested in him. So he left them be and did his best to not look at his mothers covered form, too still and too dead, but not enough to make him leave. </p><p>Stiles was used to death. His mother always seemed to be showing him some sort of dead animal, sacrificed to the moon. But Stiles Stilinski had never seen a dead person. They were intriguing, but very hard to come by, especially for a six year old. He had never wanted to see a dead body while simultaneously wanting to be as far away from one as he did right now. Stiles was not ready to experience death at the most personal level, the thought that he would ever see a dead parent had never even crossed his buzzing mind. But now, it was the only thing he could think about. </p><p>Stiles sat in the room for what felt like minutes, but was closer to several hours. Noah Stilinski, a lieutenant at the local police station, had been on a case, and wouldn’t take the phone. He knew it was about his wife, but he wanted to enjoy a few more blissful hours of thinking she was fine in the hospital, maybe even getting better. If he had known that Stiles was there alone... well he did know, and he didn’t change his behavior. Noah had met a kind nurse named Melissa and she had told him that she’d keep an eye on the hyperactive child so that Noah could get a reprieve from the hospital and go to work. Melissa had a son, Stiles' age, so she knew how to treat him. When Noah showed up at the hospital, eyes too tired, the first thing he looked for was his wife's room. He was told that she hadn’t been moved yet and that he was free to go say his goodbyes. He went the the room and dropped to his knees by her side. Stiles was being so quiet that Noah didn’t even notice him until the tears had started to fall. </p><p>“Come here kiddo,” he rasped, “it’s gonna be alright.”</p><p>Of course, Noah didn’t know that for sure and everyone has hindsight 2020. </p><p>---</p><p>Several days later. Stiles was still in the hospital. He went after school with his new friend, Scott. They played in the nurse’s room and Stiles didn’t feel so far away from his mother. His father was working a late shift and so was Melissa, so Stiles was going to be spending the night at the hospital, not wanting to go home and not being able to sleep at the McCalls house, not when it felt so unfair that Scott had a mom. He was wandering the halls, just trying to sort out the voices in his head, who had indeed begun to talk to him, when he was almost stepped on by a man with a burned face. They made eye contact and something within Stiles shifted. The odd man broke eye contact almost as fast as they had made it and kept walking down the hallway. Stiles stared at his back the whole way down the hall and into the elevator. He didn’t know what it was about the man, but the foreign voices had stopped talking until the elevator doors closed. </p><p>--</p><p>Stiles slowly put his distance between himself and the hospital. He was starting to see it as just another empty space, another place where his mother wasn’t. Melissa began dropping him off at his home. Stiles noticed the messes throughout the house: dishes piled by the sink, toys strewn from where he’d left them before his mother died, laundry that was adding up to one stinky heap, and decided that it was time he took on some responsibility. Now, he was only seven years old, his birthday having been skipped because it was just a week after his mothers funeral, so he couldn’t do that much, but he decided to try. He picked up his toys and put the clothes in the washer. That was easy because his mom had insisted that he learn the skill from a young age so he could be more helpful on chore day. He wasn’t big enough to help with dishes, but he collected all the other dishes he could find from the house and put them next to the sink. Hopeful his dad would be steady handed to do them tonight. </p><p>Stiles didn’t have many coping mechanisms as a little kid. He didn’t know what to do with himself, so he threw himself into research. First, he looked for things that any seven year old boy would want to know. Where do dinosaurs come from? What is space? Why do bugs have so many legs? But he fell into deeper, darker holes of research: What happened to the Hales? What caused the Hale fire? Where are the Hales now? </p><p>Stiles quickly gained research knowledge and grew very information oriented. He likes to have every fact about a situation before going into it. His teachers were often concerned because Stiles wouldn’t even go on a field trip if he didn’t know the bus route. They thought these were things that a child should not worry about, but Stiles thought it was pretty weird that other kids didn’t worry about these things. </p><p>Scott was in his grade at school, but they were in different classes. This was another thing that unnerved Stiles, so much so that eventually, Stiles teachers just put them in the same class. Stiles didn’t like to be far from the people he loved. He especially didn’t like when those people were within eyesight, but couldn’t be touched. Another effect of his mothers death, he assumed. </p><p>Noah was not doing well with the death of his wife, especially not when he realized that Stiles had received the gift of the moon from her. Noah had been told time and time again that when Claudia died, the moon spirit would go home, but apparently someone had been lying to him, because he say the moon shaped birthmark that graced stiles left wrist. Noah knew that meant Stiles had gotten the last thing that belonged to Claudia. He tried not to hold it against Stiles, but it was so hard that this boy who barely knew Claudia practically stole the thing she cared about most right from under Noah, who had known her for 25 years. Again, Noah knew it wasn’t fair, but it was hard to keep the jealousy at bay, so he spent his days at work. If he was at home, he was three fingers deep into a tumbler of whiskey. He wasn’t proud of it, but just like his son, he didn’t have the coping mechanisms to deal with the death of his wife. </p><p>--</p><p>By the time Stiles turned 13, he practically ran his household. He hid whiskey from his dad when he knew it was a bad night, cooked healthy food for his dad (he couldn’t bear to lose another parent. Not to something he could control, like heart disease), he did laundry and did the dishes, and he always had a few weeks of school work prepared in advance. That had taken some convincing for his teachers. They didn’t understand why Stiles would want that, so his dad and him had come up with a clever excuse: an auto-immune disease. It covered why Stiles was missing several days each month, near the new moon. What was really happening was Stiles running through the preserve, memory guiding him to the Nemeton, where he left sacrifices and performed spells for the moon. It was always ironic to Stiles that the moon called him when she was hidden in the sky, most lunar inclined creatures were drawn when she was fullest, but not him, not her host. </p><p>Stiles had realized that he was magic around 10 years old, partly because his father told him and partly because the moon was calling to him, the voices in his head vying for him to chase the shadows in the preserve. Stiles had been working on honing his skills for the past several years. It was hard because he was so young and had no external help, but he was very talented for his age. The Nemeton knew it and any supernatural creature that was pulled to Beacon Hills could recognize that there was much power there, though it was hard to pinpoint a source. Stiles main problem was focusing enough on one task to complete a spell or follow through with any of his magic. The moon in his head didn’t help either, she was truly no help, no matter how much help she thought she was giving. </p><p>As Stiles continued to grow, so did his curiosity. When he gave her the chance, the moon never stopped rambling about the werewolves that used to protect the land. She brought it up all the time, the fact that they were gone. When Stiles asked if he could get them back, she just felt melancholy and sad, so he usually dropped it. But it was always running around in the back of his head, where were the Hales? His research hadn’t brought up anything helpful, only that they didn’t die and that they weren’t in Beacon Hills anymore. Whenever Stiles thought about the Hales too long, he felt like a memory that had been buried deep was just on the edge of being discovered, but it always drifted away before he could dust it off. </p><p>--</p><p>On Stiles 16th birthday, during his Sophomore year of high school, something shifted within him. He remembered that feeling, the moon shutting up and hyper focusing on something. Stiles knew something was different, something - no, someone - was in Beacon Hills. Someone he recognized, but couldn’t place. Someone who was about to cause a reckoning in Beacon Hills.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ahhhhh. I am really excited about this. I didn't realize how cool it would be to write a fic. I'm really excited to hear what you guys think! Also, I know the chapters aren't like CRAZY long but this one surprised me a little. I went to check the length and it was way longer than I thought it was. I guess time flies when you are writing anything other than the paper that is due in class.</p><p>Also, please be patient as the holidays are arriving. I won't have as much time to write so the next couple chapters will probably be pretty spaced out. This next chapter is giving me a hell of a hard time, so THAT'S nice. As always, happy reading! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Second Devastation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some of the moments the Hales face after moving to New York.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one is a bit longer but I DON'T end up leaving you on a cliffhanger, so have fun!</p><p>TW: Flashbacks to the fire</p><p>I have notes at the beginning and end of the scene. It is not long and it is towards the end.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter</p><p>Peter did go out and find most of the hunters that had been at the fire and they were not hard to find, most of them not even bothering to cover their scents at the scene, much less away from the scene and in the supposed safety of their homes. He finds them and doesn't deign to give them more than a ripped throat. A few of the more interesting ones he keeps to torture for information about who planned the attack, but most of them don't know more than the wheezed word “Argent” before Peter promptly slits their throats. But Peter already knew it was the Argents, could easily smell the steel and hear the precision of those that actually set the fire. He also knew that no other group could have demolished their wards so completely and found a way to spike their food with wolfsbane to keep them knocked out. But he needed to know which Argents. A wrong move there would cost him his life, and likely the lives of his pack, with no exceptions. The Argent family stretched far and wide, from upper class Paris to some bum-fuck-middle-of-nowhere-Alabama. He couldn't risk going after the wrong sect, so he waited and tortured and gathered more information from the bastards that he could find.</p><p>Peter was gone for weeks at a time, visiting the pack often enough to stay updated and keep everyone in line. They had decided to move to New York, to make it easier for their long distance pack to visit, Talia could continue her alpha consulting, and it was much safer than a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. In rural California, you only had so many luxuries, but in New York, there was much more opportunity for safety and control of any situation. They would live in a suburb of New York City, though they had to find real estate large enough for a full pack but regal enough that Talia could continue professionally consulting other supernatural creatures as a born alpha and powerful pack leader. While Peter hunted, the pack worked on the new estate, getting it to Talia's standards. </p><p>He found his first major break when one of the hunters that was tied up in his own basement said the word ‘she.’ He'd been surprised to find this hunter, a man who knew his away around a code-breaking murder. Mr. Asshole had much more information about the attack than every other crony Peter had killed. Peter was even more surprised when the man let this information slip.</p><p>“Oh God, please no. I- I will tell you anything. I swear. Oh God. She- she made me. Fuck. They made me. I swear I didn’t want to. Please no.” Peter had caught the mistake though. Heard that it was a woman. That narrowed the pool quite a bit. Hunters, though becoming more progressive, were still stuck in a mainly patriarchal world. Very few Argent groups had matriarchs or even women in leading positions of the groups, even fewer of them in California. Peter decided to show the man mercy. He smirked, fury blazing in his eyes, and slit the hunters throat quickly. He may have been a killer, but he was not cruel. He gave the hunters a swift, peaceful end. Mostly. </p><p>Peter washed his hands, went back to his hotel room, grabbed his bag, and began the drive to California. He was going to figure out who these rats were and he was going to find a way to destroy them, like they had tried to destroy him. </p><p>--</p><p>Peter's first move in the car was to call the contacts that he'd left behind in California. He needed their help finding and being accepted into the biggest Argent sects, with powerful women, in California. The first he had been put into contact with was by patriarch Luca Argent, but his wife and him only birthed daughters, who were ruthless, but each had always followed the code. Peter was hoping to not find the murderess in their midst, as they were an intelligent group that had always been respectful to both the Hales, as the state pack, and the packs that were around them. When he drove up in his rental, he was readily accepted. He saw pity and compassion in the hunters eyes, not rage or ruthless pride at the work. None of the scents were familiar to him like the hunters he’d killed, which he found comforting. Peter was led by kind hunters to Luca and his daughters, where he shared a limited version of the fire. He saw the anger boil up in each of them, confirming his suspicion that they were not behind the attack and they could be trusted to help him if he needed it. </p><p>His next stop was slightly further north. He planned to go up the coast to San Francisco before rounding back more inland, crossing his own home territory. At each stop, he crossed more names off his list, some becoming more trusted allies while others stayed on Peter’s watch list. It wasn’t until he was circling back and closing in on Beacon Hills that he started to feel like he was closing in. More and more hunters looked down on him and he could hear them snicker about his scars. Peter kept his guard up and never stayed any longer than absolutely necessary. Soon enough, he was in the last town before Beacon Hills and he came across Gerard Argent’s sect. They had been on his radar for a while. Gerard was a ruthless hunter who never hesitated to bend the code when it meant killing more supernatural creatures, or even people who got in his way. His daughter, Kate, was the same way, brutal and vicious with little concern for who she was landing her blows on. </p><p>When he arrived at their base of operations, his hackles were already raised. He could smell the same gun powder, the same people that had been there. This was his stop, and yet he would not attack until he knew who it was. He was introduced to Gerard, his children Kate and Chris, and Chris’ wife Victoria. Chris seemed to be the only half sane one there, but he was overlooked the most. He could see Kate holding back smiles whenever she glanced at his scars. Peter couldn’t get through more than two sentences without being interrupted by a guffaw or a laugh from one of the women in the room. These were his people, but they were also the most dangerous people he had come across. He wouldn’t be able to just go at them in the moment, claws out. He had to wait, and gather information, and find a way into this close knit group of rats.</p><p>On his way out of the town, he saw FINISH THIS</p><p>--</p><p>Peter arrived back in New York to a busy pack house. They were coming up on the anniversary of Talia’s alpha transfer. Out of town allies and pack were flooding to the small estate that they had decided to live in. Peter had spoken against celebrating this year, but of course Talia’s ego had won over his logic. She loved to be appreciated and seen as the powerful Hale alpha, even if it was going to put them on the map. Peter knew it was a horrible idea, but there was nothing that would stop Talia from this. Instead, Peter called several of the hunter families that he had allied with in California and asked for some extra support looking for anything suspicious. Talia had been incredibly angered at first, but Peter had explained to her that her children could be in danger, and that had gotten her to agree. Of course, she was only going to allow them to patrol the borders, but that was enough for Peter. </p><p>On the night of the celebration, a beautiful late summer evening, Peter strolled the grounds pleasantly. He socialized and caught up with many creatures and people that he had met in Beacon Hills. The night went off without a hitch. There was one person who tried to breach the border, but the hired hunters had stopped him before he’d even reached the outer yard. Peter had him restrained and hidden away somewhere quiet for later. He was pleased with the hunters, seeing them truly prove themselves to be allies to the Hale pack. Peter still disliked the fact that there were so many people on the property that he hadn’t even had a chance to get fully warded yet, but once everyone was gone and the pack was all safe, he had to admit that it was nice for Talia and the pack to be celebrated so kindly. But now Peter had to deal with the man that had been caught. </p><p>He went to the shed, digging into his stored rage about everything that had happened to him. He flung the door open, expecting to see a terrified hunter, ready to die or spill his guts. Instead, cut zip ties and a slight scent of cruel satisfaction. His fury blanked out his vision and he destroyed the shed. He tore the door off its hinges and threw it at the chair where the hunter was supposed to be quivering. Then he took every tool off the walls and speared them expertly on the wall opposite. His claws shredded the walls and floor, roars barely contained. This had been Peter’s moment to discover the hidden plot from Argents. This was supposed to be his solution, the end to this horrible scheme. And yet, someone or something had decided to get in his way.</p><p>He was standing crouched and heaving deep breaths when he heard small footsteps. He took one more deep breath, came back from his shift, and left the shed to meet his nephew before he saw the destruction. Derek’s hazel eyes stared knowingly at him. Peter made eye contact, gave a ‘comforting’ smile and held out his hand. They walked back to the pack house in silence, as was usual with the two. They didn’t get these moments as often as Derek was 11 now, Peter got even less sweet moments with Laura, the bratty 13 year old that she was. He knew that it was partly his fault for being so distant, but it was better this way. This way he didn’t force the young children into his lifestyle, like he had been. Talia had been telling him to start training Derek for years now, but Peter refused. Derek still had childhood left to enjoy, he wouldn’t smear it with the darkness that came along with being a left-hand. He knew that Talia wanted to start teaching Laura about being an alpha, but it wasn’t her time yet. </p><p>--</p><p>A couple years go by and Peter never gathered enough information about Gerard and his matriarchs to attack. He waited oh so patiently but never found the opportunity to smite the plot against his family. The family was always running through his head, be it on a back burner. He assimilated to the New York culture, continued to practice law like he had in California. There were several firms dying to have Patrick Halker on their team. (Peter didn’t practice under the same name because it was safer for the pack if people couldn’t find them through a simple google search). He chose one closer to the pack house, so he wouldn’t have to worry about travelling too far in commute. He was pleased to find that they didn’t seem to care that his looks had been marred by the horrible scarring, they only found that it made him seem more scary, all the better for court. Clients weren’t hard to come by in New York, especially when people realized that Peter was very understanding when it came to pricing. Contrary to popular belief, Peter did not become a lawyer for the money or the glory, he did it to really help people. If he wanted money and glory, he could do something that he’d have an unfair advantage over, like a sport or law enforcement. </p><p>Just over three years from the celebration, Talia decided that Laura is old enough to begin her alpha training. She’s 16 now, and Peter wishes she could have just two more years, but Talia doesn’t see the issue. She loved learning to be an alpha. Peter never got the training, so maybe it was better than being trained to be a left-hand. He still refused to teach Derek. He was just barely in high school, he didn’t need to learn to kill. </p><p>--</p><p>Four years later, Laura is going to a college within an hours drive and Derek is thinking about where he wants to go after highschool. Peter had begun training the previous year, deciding to teach him about making allies and how to identify creatures quickly. This was the summer Peter was going to introduce the harder part of being a left hand to Derek. He still wished he could wait, but he was positive that Derek was ready for it, and Peter knew that he had to learn sometime. Derek, despite his few words, excelled at negotiations, but to Peter’s surprise, he was even better at quick, merciful killings. He was quiet in the approach but kind in the killing. He did not drag it out, he went for vital hits, fast and precise. Derek was going to be a good left-hand, and it didn’t hurt that he was loyal to Laura, almost to a fault. He never stood up to Talia directly, but he defended Laura in almost everything she did, and if Derek ever didn’t agree with something she did, they talked it through and always came out of it with a greater understanding of each other. Peter was pretty sure that this skill was from him, seeing as when he and Talia were children, Talia would fight him into submission, or at least until he feigned agreement. She always did abuse her age gap. </p><p>The Hales had settled into a good rhythm. Laura visited often from college to keep the bonds happy, Talia consulted with all sorts of creatures, magicians, and people, Peter worked the weekdays at the firm and spent the weekends with his family, and Derek continued his training while also going out on his own to find himself. They were a mostly functional, mostly happy family that was making their way through life as supernaturals. There was hardly any conflict within the group or conflict facing them from the outside and the barriers that they held up against the world softened, the fire but a bad memory. </p><p>That was for all but Peter. He wore that bad memory everyday, never letting anyone quite close enough to see past the layers of barricades he’d put up around himself. He seemed more relaxed, but his edge never dulled. He was prepared for everything to go wrong at any moment. At least, he thought he was. Until he wasn’t.</p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Two year later, Derek is working his way through college. Laura has decided to work as a secretary for Peter until she can find a better place for herself. Talia has begun to space out her consulting so she can spend more time on the pack and figuring out ways to keep her children in New York, where she can keep a closer eye on them. Her children have no intention of staying, but that’s not Peter’s business. </p><p>They had celebrated Talia’s alpha transfer earlier in the week and Derek, Laura, Peter, and Talia were still together enjoying the life that had been added to their bonds for the celebration. It was late that evening and the cold was setting in quickly, normal for a New York September. They had just had an actually enjoyable pack dinner, few and far between occurrences. Laura and Peter, who had to work in the morning, had retired earlier. They could hear the rumble of conversation between Derek and Talia, something about school. Soon after, Talia found her way to her room while Derek finished locking up the house. They may have been werewolves, but that didn’t mean they wanted people to just come into their house. </p><p>--</p><p>Enter Flashback TW</p><p>--</p><p>Fitful dreams filled Peter’s mind. Flames licking at his skin, peeling it away. The scent of burning wood and ash filling his throat as he struggled to breath. The weight of responsibility to his pack pushing him forward. He could feel his hair smoldering in the heat but he knew he’d smell worse than his own flesh burning; he would smell his family’s. He could hear phantom screams coming from the wood of the house, not wanting to burn but being forced into the blaze anyways. It sounded like Peter was losing the very people he loved most. Then the dream shifted to a huge black wolf with glowing blue eyes growling at a shivering man, crumpled before it. The Wolf reaches out a claw and shreds the man's face and body. He shrieks and howls and tries to crawl away, but the damage has been done. Blood pools around the man, and just as it looks like he’s about to give up, the Wolf leans down and licks the man. His wounds close and his convulsing stops, but the pain doesn’t go away. The man is left with mottled scars across half his body, a souvenir of the moment he turned away from his family. </p><p>--</p><p>End of Flashback</p><p>--</p><p>Peter suddenly realizes this is a dream. He knows because this has already happened to him. He was marred by his wolf then saved for his trouble. He tries to jolt himself out of bed but comes to realize that he has been tied down. His eyes flare open and he attempts to gnash his teeth at his captors, but he is muzzled. </p><p>“Oh no, pretty thing. You won’t be getting away that easily. Not this time.” A woman’s voice taunts. A woman’s voice that he has heard before. Kate Argent. That bitch had laughed at his family’s misfortune and looked pleased to see his scars, she’d only looked chagrined when he’d mentioned that all of his pack made it out of the fire. So one could say that Peter was furious with her, and that she wasn’t going to end her life with his claws or teeth not involved somehow. “You know, I tried so hard to kill all of you the first time. I was so mad when you woke up and got the other little mutts out. I thought that even if one of you did manage to wake up, some of you would still die. So disappointing. It took so much work to get your little emissary friend- Deaton, was it?- to give you all wolfsbane poisoning. We threatened to kill him and his funny little sister. That got him right to work. And he still managed to fuck it up. He’s next, if you’re wondering,” she ran the flat end of a knife up his stomach, even through his shirt, he could feel its edge, “now, I have three other mutts to get to, so I’ll make this short.”</p><p>In the moments before she drew the knife savagely through his neck, he came to the realization that she was afraid of him. Otherwise, she’d kill his pack first, then him. He smirked when the blade wrecked his flesh. He felt his own warm blood spill onto his shirt and on to his beautiful grey sheets. But he was not afraid of this puny hunter. She was nothing. He chuckled, though it came out a bit garbled. Kate, believing that the chuckle was a whimper, left the room. She looked to the woman outside the door, a bloodthirsty grin on her face, and walked out of the room to kill Peter’s pack.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Teehee, gotcha. There's a nice little cliff hanger for you... </p><p>Ok, so a quick timeline to help fix any confusion since I didn't make it super clear in the text. They move to New York when everyone is the same age as in the fire. So Peter is 22 and so on and so forth. It takes a year for Peter to chillax and that is when the celebration happens. Then, three years later, there is that section of plot. Those two paragraphs about Peter with Gerard and Talia deciding to train Laura are in the same timeframe. Four years after THAT, is those next couple paragraphs. So in all, they've been in New York for eight years at the time. Then the whole sadness dealio is two years later. In conclusion, it's been 10 years. Peter goes back to Beacon Hills when he's 32 years old. Stiles is 16 and living it up at the bottom of the high school food chain. This next bit will be pretty much canon plus some spice. Also, I haven't actually watched the show in a while, so I really am not going to get into very much detail, just the big scenes and things that I liked. Teehee. Sorry for the long note. Hope you're still enjoying it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Second Devastation Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The rest of the evening.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lol, so I decided on a short chapter really fast to tie up Peter’s story before introducing the next Stiles chapter. It just made more sense. For you Stiles fans, I am sorry. I promise he will be back!!! This chapter is gonna be TINY.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter</p><p>Peter knew Talia had been killed when he felt a flash of power run over him. He relaxed his mind and body, ready to take on the power before he succumbed to the blood that was choking him. Instead, it floated through the bonds and enveloped itself into Laura. </p><p>Every moment Peter had ever felt jealous of Talia suddenly came flooding back, and the power still didn’t go to him. It went to the woefully prepared, barely adult, Laura! Rage boiled his blood and contorted his body. He ripped the restraints off of his body, his neck wound healing fast once the wolf realized it would be tasting hunter blood. He became a whirlwind of speed and destruction, ripping the huntress's heads off, not stopping until he reached Laura’s room. He wrenched the door open, only to find an open window, the scent of human terror and Laura’s spicy rage lingering in the room. </p><p>Once again, if Peter was a lesser man, he would have left to chase after the women and decide whether to kill them both or just one of them when he got there. But he remembered that Derek was likely sick, tied up, or both at the moment so he decided to go help him through this event. Derek was struggling on the bed, shame and anger wafting off of him. Peter sliced through the wolfsbane infused ropes and ripped the muzzle off his face. Derek’s fear and confusion ran rampant in the room, but Peter didn’t have time to comfort him. He took off through the house not having a plan yet, rage and jealousy still ripping through himself. Belatedly, he realized Derek was going to find his mother’s dead body. It didn’t stop him. </p><p>He chased through the forest, finding the scent of Laura and Kate. He followed it all the way to a small service road where tire rubber and wolfsbane took over his senses. So Kate had her, then. That bitch had gotten away, again, with the thing that he wanted most.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Stiles is actually next, I swear.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Stiles and Peter Hang Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A little context for Stiles and then the debacle at the hospital and the debacle at the dance. Neither of which completely follow canon, but it's fine.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finally, the Stiles chapter. Please don't go at this expecting canon, but do keep in mind that some of the scenes are based directly off of canon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles</p>
<p>Sophomore year. The big 10th grade for Stiles and Scott. Within the first few weeks, Scott became dead set on playing first line on lacrosse, a laughable goal set by Stiles’ little asthmatic. Stiles had tried to convince Scott that his goal for this year should be getting good grades, but Scott hadn’t been very interested. Stiles would have to settle with competing with Lydia for another year in a row. Danny had made a valiant effort last year, but he really should keep his mind focused on computer science, not topping Lydia or Stiles, he didn’t really have any chance, even with the extra help of being friends with Lydia, something Stiles couldn’t relate to anymore. </p>
<p>But back to Scott, the boy was so vanilla and boring that Stiles had made it his mission to spice up his life a little. How was he starting? Well, he’d heard about half a dead body in the woods tonight. It had taken Stiles about three seconds to debate all the pros and cons of going to get Scott. The pros being; dead body, Scott time outside of school or video games, and did he mention dead body? The cons being; dead body, school night, and Scott can be a little rat when he’s tired. CLEARLY, the pros would make the night worth it, and so the second the sheriff was out of the house, Stiles rushed to Roscoe, his beloved jeep. He drove to Scott’s house but parked about a block away. Melissa was used to his antics at this point and had memorized the sound of the engine. She’d have Scott locked in the basement and an airsoft gun pointed at his head the second she heard it this late on a school night. </p>
<p>So instead of Stiles taking that as a bright fluorescent sign to turn back and go home, he crept through their yard and climbed to Scott’s second story window. The full moon shone down on his back and coated him like an extra flannel. When Stiles heard Scott opened his window, Stiles poked his head out, effectively scaring the shit out of Scott, who was only wearing a towel at the moment. “Jesus dude. Put some clothes on. We are going shopping!” </p>
<p>“What the actual hell Stiles. Why are you here? What do you mean shopping?” Scott replied incredulously. </p>
<p>“Dude. Body shopping. There’s a missing half body in the preserve. We gotta go!” Stiles said as he swung into the room. </p>
<p>“Lacrosse tryouts are tomorrow. I’m not coming. Go find the body by yourself! That way your dad will only have you hide, not mine.” Stiles returned his weak rebuttal with a stern look</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Scott wheezed his way through the leaves and undergrowth, alerting their presence to everyone in a ten mile radius.</p>
<p>“Could you shut the hell up, McCall? It’s like you want to be caught out here.” Stiles huffed. </p>
<p>“You remember I have severe asthma, right, you asshole?” Scott rolled his eyes at his best friend.</p>
<p>“Oh god, how could I ever forget.” But it didn’t actually stop them. They kept scrambling around, trying not to make too much noise, after all, Scott had pointed out that Stiles had no idea who the murderer was, and if they were still out here in the woods. </p>
<p>“Do you even know which half we are looking for?” Scott asked when they took a second to let Scott use his inhaler. </p>
<p>“Sure. The half that hasn’t been found yet!” Stiles supplied, very helpfully, if he were to say so himself. </p>
<p>“Oh my god, you asshole! I was forced out here and you don’t even know what we are looking for. We could be about to get killed, found, or find a body that I don’t even want to see. Jesus Stiles.” Scott ranted. Part of it hit Stiles in that little part of his heart that felt like he was a nuisance to the people around him, but he brushed it off. </p>
<p>“You know you love it,” Stiles returned. He heard a brush of leaves and the quick click of a branch breaking, “Scott. Scotty, tell me you did that.”</p>
<p>“Did what Stiles. I’m just standing here, like you,” but Scott tensed because then he heard shouting voices. And dogs barking. And he could see the trees being lit up by professional grade flashlights.</p>
<p>“Oh shit,” the boys whispered at the same time. Scott was fast enough to hide behind a tree before the lights caught him, but Stiles was standing like a deer in headlights the second a light skimmed him. “Good one Stiles” Scott whispered. There was shouting and confusion before the clear voice of Sheriff Stilinski called, “Oh my god, Stiles. What are you doing out here? Calm down everyone, this gremlin belongs to me. Stiles, where’s Scott? I’m gonna take you home.”</p>
<p>“No Scott here, pops. Just little ole’ me. I was just uhh… taking a quick adventure, ya know. As one does.” Anyone could see that Stiles was bluffing, but the Sheriff wasn’t in the mood to question him further. </p>
<p>“Jeez, come here kid. I swear you’re gonna be the death of me.” Stiles scurried through the trees, happy to not be getting more reprimanding in front of all the volunteers. He heard Scott slowly creep away and was hoping he would find a way back into town. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Of course, it never works out quite right for Stiles and Scott. The next day at school, Scott is telling Stiles all about something that bit him. The first time Stiles had seen Scott that morning, the hair on the back of his neck rose. Something was different about him, more than just being bitten by a random animal. He couldn’t place what was so familiar about Scott’s new aura, but he couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not. </p>
<p>Pretty fast, Stiles realized what it was. Scott had super-hearing, super-strength, super… well everything. Werewolf was not a word common in Stiles vocabulary, but his magic experience and incredibly Sherlock Holmes deduction supplied the answer right after Scott started showing symptoms. The real problem with all of this was that Stiles had not been contacted or told that there was an alpha moving in. He kept track of all the supernaturals in Beacon Hills, and an alpha werewolf wasn’t one of them. There weren’t ANY werewolves in Beacon Hills (Stiles was pretty sure it had something to do with the werewolves that had previously lived on the land, but he couldn’t be sure). But now there’s an alpha werewolf galivanting around not paying any mind to the moon spirit that protected and controlled the land. Stiles couldn’t have that. He ESPECIALLY couldn’t have this alpha running around biting whomever it pleased. That was a great way to get too many people involved in a mess that didn’t concern them. So Stiles devised a plan to find the alpha, talk to it (if possible), and subdue it (if necessary). </p>
<p>Stiles took the rest of the week to focus on the moon and gather enough power for such a broad searching spell, he wasn’t able to make it any easier. Everything was ready and the plan was smoothed out. That was until yet another werewolf showed up to give Scott a nice little chatty chat. The man was barely older than Scott and Stiles, but definitely seemed like he had seen some way worse shit. Apparently his name was Derek Hale. When Stiles heard that, he winced with the flood of joy the moon felt within his head. Stiles remembered doing a research project on them a long time ago, all about their family history and then the abrupt end to it when a fire burned down their house, the four inside barely making it out. Stiles felt like it was safe to assume that the Hales were all werewolves, the same werewolves that had once protected the land, and the same werewolves that the moon had so adored. </p>
<p>So now Stiles plan was a little bit more complex, and a little bit harder to pull off. As a supernatural himself, he knew how they thought. These two teenage boys, one of them a newly turned beta werewolf, were going to be Derek’s best lead to the alpha that he was hunting. Stiles still wasn’t sure why he was so invested in this, but he was sure that he was going to figure it out. The moon was being very little help at the moment, as they seemed to think that now that the Hales were back, they didn’t need to worry about anything, not even their darling host. So it wasn’t like they were going to tell Stiles who the alpha was. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>But things kept getting in the way. Ms. Hunter girl and Scotty boy falling in love, Scott being a horrible werewolf, Derek’s sneaking suspicion that Stiles knew more than he was letting on, Stiles’ dad keeping a closer eye on him because even though he didn’t have magic, he could tell something magic was going on. It was like the universe was against him, which he really didn’t doubt. It was very VERY possible, thanks to the moon spirit wedged in his body. So he never did end up getting a chance to figure out who the alpha was. He was just left putting out the fires that were left in its wake. He taught Scott control and tried to keep him away from Alison, but that was a lost cause from the beginning. He kept tabs on Derek and made sure that he didn’t know about Stiles’ magic. Stiles was stuck babysitting two boys who should have been able to work together figure their problems out, but no, people just aren’t taught communication like they used to. The closest Stiles got to the alpha was one night at the high school where Derek and Scott had the bright idea to summon a feral werewolf to them with no real plan on how they were going to control it. Very intelligent. Anyone could have predicted how the night went. It didn’t help that ‘woe is me’ Alison showed up, toting asshole Jackson and Goddess Lydia with her. Between keeping Jackson and Scott from killing each other and keeping the alpha from killing everyone, Stiles' magic didn’t get a read on the alpha, which was infinitely more frustrating than the teenagers surrounding him. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>So obviously, when Stiles was cornered in a hospital, not really in danger but not wanting to reveal all the tricks up his sleeve, his only thoughts were ‘OF COURSE it’s Peter fucking Hale.’ Laura and Talia are dead and the moon would’ve guided Stiles right to an impostor on the land. But noooooo, Stiles had been so busy with Scott and school that he hadn’t taken one single second to look at the big picture. Stiles was SO stupid. And now he was in a situation where he didn’t want to reveal his magic to either Hale man, but also really didn’t want to die. So when Derek leapt past him and tackled Peter, Stiles took that chance and ran. He got out of there as fast as he could. He trusted Derek to make it out alive; no matter how feral Peter was, he wouldn’t kill family. So Stiles ran home from the hospital, a hefty amount of exercise, but something he could survive (thanks lacrosse). He locked his doors and went to his room to throw himself into a research deep dark hole. </p>
<p>What he didn’t expect to see when he got to his room was Derek Hale, smearing blood on his chair. “Dude, what the hell,” were really the only words Stiles had for the man. Of course, chatty Kathy Derek didn’t respond. Just fixed him with that funky little glare of his. “What can I do for you, kind sir? If the answer is nothing, get your cute little werewolf ass out of my chair and stop bleeding over everything.” Once again, Derek didn’t respond, he did raise his eyebrows and let out a low growl, though. “Jesus Christ fine. Calm down. Can I at LEAST grab my laptop from the desk.” Derek rolled his eyes at that one and grabbed the laptop, thrusting it at Stiles and leaving a nice bloody handprint on the outside. “Thanks for that.” Stiles responded, already making himself at home on his bed and getting to work. </p>
<p>It was almost twenty minutes later when Derek finally deemed Stiles worthy enough of a couple words. “Stilinksi, I know you’re hiding something. I have an eye on you,” clearly a pretty ominous thing to say right before you hop through someone’s window off to who knows where. </p>
<p>Stiles sat in a stunned silence for a little while before he got back into research. The threat didn’t worry Stiles very much, because he was not going to show anyone his magic unless he trusted them completely and no one was going to just figure out that information, but now Stiles knew he’d need to be extra careful. Having a werewolf’s eye on him would hinder his activities quite a bit, not that Stiles really did anything in the first place. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Very quickly, the dance comes upon the Sophomores of Beacon Hills. The big moment when parents pretty much know their kids are going to go out and get shitfaced then spend the night with their ‘friends,’ but let them do it anyways because it’s a right of passage. But luckily, Stiles scored a hot date and he was going to get to act like a popular, hot, teen for one night. </p>
<p>When Stiles and Lydia pulled up to the dance in Roscoe, Stiles pretended that it was Jackson’s stupid corvet. He imagined whisking Lydia in through the front doors and all of his peers stopping to gasp at how great they looked together. Of course, in real life, he practically wrenched his shoulder out of his pocket opening the passenger door and Lydia stepped immediately into the crowd to find a drink and sit down. But that would never stop Stiles’ optimistic attitude about the night. Later in the evening, he even got Lydia to dance with him. He also saw deep into her insecurities and fears when she melted at his rant about Fields Medals and Nobel Prizes, but that was something for them to unpack at a later date. </p>
<p>Stiles should’ve known that something was going to go wrong. He never got an evening like this that went so well, but he just wanted to think that for one night, he was a normal teen with a pretty date at a fun dance. But then Lydia went searching for Jackson and Stiles was left alone for a little too long. When he went back into the main room, he found Jackson, shaken up and shaking like a leaf in a breeze. “Jackson, what’s wrong. Did Lydia find you?” Stiles asked, wariness already creeping into his bones.</p>
<p>“Lydia? What? No. But Stiles. I- I was out behind the school and I saw this thing and I tried to chase it down but I found the Argents instead. They asked about Scott, they know that he’s here. Stiles, they had guns, big ones. I don’t know what’s going on.” But Jackson’s little rant had stopped processing after Stiles heard that Jackson hadn’t even seen Lydia. She’d been gone for a long time. Something was wrong. He shoved Jackson into the wall, only feeling a little bad when he heard him slide to the ground, and sprinted out the doors. He went right for the field, because the lights were on but no one was supposed to be on the field, it was closed off during the dance. That’s when he saw Lydia, glowing in the lights, her pale dress shining with the light, and who he could only assume was Peter Hale, creeping up behind her too fast. He screamed for her to run, but it was too late. Lydia’s muffled whimpers reached Stiles ears even as he raced across the field. He skidded down to his knees and tried to reach for Lydia when Peter defensively crouched over her and growled. </p>
<p>“Don’t kill her, please.” There was nothing else Stiles could do in the situation. He couldn’t let Lydia die, but he couldn’t reveal all his cards to Peter. </p>
<p>Peter looked at him. “Of course not. Just tell me where to find Derek, hmm?”</p>
<p>Stiles was confused. Derek? Stiles was pretty sure Derek had been more on edge the last time they had seen each other, but did something happen to him? “What do you mean, find Derek? Why would I know where he is?”</p>
<p>“Stiles, you are supposed to be the clever one. You tell me.” Peter drawled. If Stiles hadn’t spent most of his life learning about body language and how to interpret it, he would’ve thought Peter really was as calm as his voice was letting on. But he could tell that Peter was nervous, or at least very on edge. Once again, Stiles was struck by the thought that Peter wouldn’t kill family. Making it very odd for Derek to think he killed Laura. </p>
<p>“Ok, fine. Uhh, let me think for a second,” Stiles head was racing, he couldn’t use magic, but he had lots of other skills. So… how could he use those right now. “Wait! When we last saw Derek, after your… tiff… Derek must have known something was going to happen to him. He took Scott’s phone. I can track a phone!”</p>
<p>“Very good, Stiles. Now, let’s go.” Peter grabbed Stiles’ arm and wrenched him away from Lydia. </p>
<p>“Wait, WAIT! Is she going to be ok? I’m not going to do anything if she isn’t going to be ok.”</p>
<p>“For Christ’s sake Stiles, she’ll be fine. You won’t be if we don’t get moving now.” Peter scolded as he pulled Stiles towards the parking lot. Stiles led them to Roscoe, knowing that Peter could have found it anyways, it probably reeks of Scott and Stiles. Stiles was shaking so badly when he tried to fit the key into the ignition and start it that he dropped his keys twice before Peter snatched them out of his hand and started the car for him. “Now, go to the Beacon Hills Memorial parking structure.” Peter instructed. For a moment Stiles' mind hit a blank and it felt like he had forgotten how to drive. Then he heard Peter growl and it all came flooding back. They screeched out of the parking lot and towards the hospital.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know I didn't go into what happened to Laura in my timeline, so to be brief: Laura's body is found sawed apart. The mostly normal canon things happen, Peter gets the spark, Derek is angry, yada yada. Kate thinks that Peter is dead but knows that Derek was not killed, so she kills Laura as bait to get Derek to Beacon Hills. Derek thinks it was Peter, since he ran away so fast. They'll figure it out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Peter's Alive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter and Stiles hang out some more.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Little bit of a shorter chapter, but when life happens, it happens.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“His password is Alison?” Peter internally rolled his eyes. The boy is in high school, he should not be this stupid. </p>
<p>Stiles held his breath for the next few taps on his keyboard. “His password is Alison?!”</p>
<p>“You still want him in your pack?” Stiles risked a glance up at Peter, he didn’t regret it. Peter looked about as irritated as one could get. It gave Stiles a small amount of satisfaction. That satisfaction sunk to the pit of his stomach when he saw the location of Scott’s phone. “That’s where she’s keeping him? In his own house?”</p>
<p>Peter got closer to look at the location. It was the husk of a house that had once been the place he called home. “Not in the house, Stiles. Under it. I know exactly where he is. Now give me your keys.”</p>
<p>Stiles scrambled through his pockets and gave his keys to Peter. “Please be careful with her? She grinds in second.” Stiles really loved Roscoe, he didn’t want a richy rich like Peter to break her shifting. But that clearly wasn’t Peter’s intention, because he crumpled the keys in his hand like a sheet of paper. </p>
<p>“So, wait, dude you aren’t going to kill me?” Stiles asked, truly surprised. </p>
<p>“No, but I will offer you one thing. Little, weak, Stiles, would you like the bite? It would make you strong enough to keep up with your pal Scott, maybe he wouldn’t leave you behind in the sad little social circle you are barely grasping now.”</p>
<p>Stiles had no intention of receiving the bite. He knew it wouldn’t take because of the moon, and if it did, he couldn’t handle being cut off from the moon. They were too close. But when Peter grabbed his wrist and asked again if Stiles wanted the bite, Stiles knew that that meant. He knew the implications of a bite on the wrist and for some reason, he didn’t feel nearly as repulsed as he should. A strange murderer offering him the bite of a mate should freak him out, but it just made Stiles feel safe and collected. Stiles almost let Peter bite his wrist, but he pulled it away at the last second. “I don’t want the bite.”</p>
<p>“Oh sweetheart, you want to know what I just heard? Your heartbeat skipped when you said the words ‘I don’t want.’” Peter drawled. But Peter, too, was barely keeping his composure. He had instinctively reached for Stiles’ wrist, instead of leaving it at just asking him if he wanted the bite. Why did he do that? Stiles is just a wild teenager with a scent of ozone lingering around him. There was no reason for his wolf to ask Stiles to be his mate. At least Stiles didn’t know what that meant. “But I’ll withdraw. The bite wouldn’t take anyways if you kept lying to yourself saying you don’t want it.”</p>
<p>Stiles didn’t say anything, but he did take several deep breaths. There was confusion layering his thoughts too greatly, he didn’t know how to handle this situation. Thankfully, it seemed that Peter had other things to get to, and he walked to the side of his car. Before he got into the driver's seat, he smiled at Stiles. </p>
<p>“Goodbye Stiles. I have a feeling I will be seeing you soon.” </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Once Stiles got away from the hunters that ambushed him and Jackson, they stopped by the high school to make those bombs that Lydia made the first night. Thank God for Stiles memory because Jackson was completely useless in a lab. They only made two, because that was all they had time for, Stiles could feel something happening at the Hale house. He didn’t actually want to use the bombs, death by fire a second time was not something he was willing to follow through with, but he would if he had to.</p>
<p>When Jackson and Stiles showed up, Stiles realized that there was nothing they could do but take out Peter. He was on a rampage, there was no talking him down, only putting him down. So he threw the molotov cocktail. When Peter caught it, he was pretty sure that was it. Peter was going to kill everyone. Then Alison shot an arrow and it exploded. Stiles could feel the immediate fear and resentment that shot through Peter, knew that Peter was having horribly gruesome flashbacks, but there was nothing else for Stiles to do. He had to protect his family. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>[Peter’s view of his murder]</p>
<p>When Stiles appeared out of nowhere with some random boy and a fancy car, Peter was quite positive that this was his end. He did, in fact, know that Stiles was the clever one. What Peter should have known, was that Stiles was loyal, too. He was never going to get away with attacking these people that Stiles cared about. Peter should have known better. But he didn’t. </p>
<p>This is why it’s always good to have a contingency plan. Because Peter hadn’t only Bitten Lydia to get Stiles on his side, no, it had been for his own backup plan as well. Peter could smell the death on the banshee the second he showed up to the dance. It was really his luck that she had made her way out to the field. So he’d bitten her to leave just the right amount of Peter in the world. </p>
<p>But now, Peter is burning alive, for the second time. It feels awful. Twice as bad as last time because the memories from the first fire are now overlapping. But this time, Peter knows he is going to be fine, so he lets the flames wash over him, cleanse him. He does wish that Stiles had been a little less creative and maybe showed up with throwing knives, or something less likely to kill him, but such is life - and death. And so Peter falls. Of course he’s still not dead, because why would the universe show him any kindness, but Derek is swift with his kill, quickly sending Peter into this awful state of being dead, but still conscious. So now, Peter just had to wait patiently for the perfect time to come back to life and save the day, or at least get someone to trust him… preferably Stiles but he would take the trust of any of those brats. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Lydia’s condition was not improving. She had been in a coma for days, and doctors were still trying to figure out why she wasn’t waking up. They’d gotten the wound cleaned and covered and it was beginning to heal, but Lydia wasn’t waking up. Stiles had been at the hospital for days, waiting for a sign of her either turning or her death. So when suddenly, Lydia’s parents were laughing and happily yelling at the doctors, Stiles jumped up in his seat. Lydia was awake, and acting normal. She didn’t have any immediately noticeable changes in her behavior. </p>
<p>That was, until she jumped out a window in the nude and went missing for several days. That is not something a normally behaving Lydia would ever do. She did have a taste for the dramatic, but not in this way. Stiles was really worried about her, but worried that he shouldn’t be. She can handle herself, she doesn’t need a hero in shining white armor. That’s why Stiles enlisted the help of Scott! He was not going to be a hero for Lydia, more likely a nuisance or someone to add to her smiting list. After a couple days, Lydia seemingly found Stiles at a crime scene. Thank God for that woman’s durability, but it was quite the sight for Stiles to see her standing in her naked glory asking for a coat. </p>
<p>Stiles could tell that something had changed about her, she wasn’t completely human, but she definitely wasn’t a werewolf. Stiles would need to go home and look through his books to figure out what specifically she was, but he thanked the Gods above that she wasn’t a werewolf. That was not something that she could handle, much less accept for herself. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>When Lydia returned to school, Stiles could still tell that something was wrong. She was jumpy and spaced out all the time, not in control of herself. But Stiles couldn’t figure out why. She wouldn’t talk to Stiles, though that wasn’t that surprising. It still made helping her a lot harder, because if Stiles wasn’t able to figure out what was torturing her, he wouldn’t be able to help her get rid of it. When one day it all stopped, Stiles should have dug deeper. He should have known that something that had dug itself so deep into Lydia’s mind wouldn’t just disappear without consequences. </p>
<p>It should have been less of a shock when Peter appeared in Stiles window one night, legs crossed and outfit impeccable. “Oh hey Peter, yeah what’s up you fucking zombie? What the hell are you doing here? Oh my god, you’re what happened to Lydia. Jesus Christ Peter how are you alive. And why are you in my window right now? And where did you find the clothes. What the fuck Peter? Oh yeah and --”</p>
<p>“Stiles, how nice to see you again,” Peter interrupted, “I hope you missed me.”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah bro, I really missed the homicidal maniac that tried to kill my friends and I. Yup yup yup, I missed you so much.” </p>
<p>“You do realize that your heart did not stutter during that little tirade, Stiles.” Peter’s interest has piqued. He knew that he missed Stiles, but he didn’t think that the boy could possibly find any interest in himself. This was very exciting. </p>
<p>“Oh my god. Could you please just explain to me why you’re here? And maybe, while you’re at it, how you’re alive?” Stiles' whole face was turning red because of that realization, but he really did want to know how Peter did it. </p>
<p>“Now a gentleman doesn’t kill and tell, darling. Oh no, I can’t tell you that yet. But I do have a proposition for you. While I, your friendly neighborhood zombie, get a base down in Beacon Hills, you, my new friendly neighborhood watch boy, keep the rest of your gremlins off of my tail.” </p>
<p>“Oh haha! He makes dog jokes. Do you have to be a werewolf to be allowed to make dog jokes? Or can I do it too?”</p>
<p>“Stiles, what is your answer. Help me out, or do I need to high tail it out of here to find somewhere safe hiding underground for the next 20 years?”</p>
<p>“Well I don’t know, are you gonna give me an answer to if I can make dog jokes?”</p>
<p>“Oh my gods, you are a piece of work, Stilinski. Yes, fine. Make all the dog jokes you can at me. I’d be careful about them around anyone else though, Derek would probably kill you and Scott already has puppy eyes.” Petter finally gives up.</p>
<p>“Fine. I’ll keep them distracted. Don’t you worry your fuzzy ass, they won’t know you’re alive until you tell me they can know. But you better not be getting into any shenanigans, I can only deceive so long.” </p>
<p>Peter was much too infatuated with this boy. He was going to follow those rules. He might do a little digging around, but nothing too big. He really just needed someone to help keep his secrets secret and Stiles seemed pretty good at that, considering the train wreck of Scott’s turning and subsequent adjustment period. </p>
<p>Now Peter had Stiles on his side and he could get to work. He would still have to avoid Derek and Scott and whoever else was in on their little circle of trust, but it would be a lot easier now that he had someone to help with keeping his whole ‘being alive’ thing secret.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you still enjoyed it. Excited for where I'm taking it next? Me too. Guess we will figure that out...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Scheming and Shenanigans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter is gonna have some Stiles and Peter shenanigans with them snarking, Stiles covering for Peter, and just a whole blast of interesting fun times. It goes up to the Kanima with Stiles surprising himself by calling Peter after almost drowning in the pool, he’s scared and confused, and on the edge of panic. So he calls Peter because against Stiles' better judgement, they became something like friends.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What's up. Got a chapter for y'all. I thought this was going to be a lot shorter, but then I kept wanting to add pieces. So, you're welcome?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their deal is working pretty well for the both of them. Stiles has just enough tasks running through his mind that he can focus pretty well once he’s decided which one to work on and Peter is getting his shit done without any pesky beta’s getting into his way. The two had exchanged phone numbers that fateful night of the deal. Peter had come up with the great excuse of ‘so you can call me if you need help with anything supernatural’ because the real reason wasn’t something he really wanted to share with Stiles. For some reason, he can’t really see ‘I feel heavily attracted to you in both physical and spiritual parts of my body and soul and I just want to stay as connected to you as possible’ going over that well with the 16 year old. </p>
<p>This being said, Peter was very excited when his phone buzzed late one evening. There was only one person it could be: Stiles. And Peter was right, there was ‘Stiles Stilinksi’ across his phone screen. </p>
<p>‘Hey. What are you up to?’<br/>-From Stiles</p>
<p>‘At my place, reconnecting with people’<br/>-From Peter</p>
<p>‘Can you help me with some research?’<br/>-From Stiles</p>
<p>‘Sure. Unlock your window, I will be there soon.’<br/>-From Peter</p>
<p>Stiles wasn’t really sure why his first thought had been Peter. He’d gotten this far with his own research skills. He guessed it was because he felt connected to Peter, an innate bond of trust that Stiles wasn’t uncomfortable with. </p>
<p>Peter was there soon, with a bag smelling like grease in hand. </p>
<p>“You’re bribing me again! More curly fries!”</p>
<p>“What can I say, I have to keep my guard dog happy.”</p>
<p>“Hey, you can’t make dog jokes about me, I’m not even part wolf!”</p>
<p>“Yes, but I did offer. So by proxy, you are entitled to my very own brand of dog jokes.”</p>
<p>“I wish I could be mad, but you’re literally holding the ambrosia of the Gods in those paws.”</p>
<p>Peter handed Stiles the bag after plucking out his own small order of fries. Stiles tore through the bag, grabbing his fries and setting them precariously in his lap. “Please, sit down. I’m gonna verbally process at you, it can be overwhelming.”</p>
<p>Peter was pretty sure everything Stiles did was a little overwhelming, but he found it quite endearing. He sat down on the chair next to the desk across from Stiles bed. Stiles snatched his laptop from the mattress behind him, almost tipping over his fries, but somehow the clumsy teenager artfully completed the maneuver without spilling anything. “Ok, so, I have been doing a lot of research on all sorts of cases in Beacon Hills that had odd circumstances. I am pretty sure that the Beacon in Beacon Hills is literal. There have been dozens of cases, missing people, murders, maulings, sudden insanity, all sorts of things like that that are very suspicious, but could never be explained logically, when you factor in the supernatural, it makes a lot of sense.” Stiles had been piecing all of this together for years, but now he had an actual primary source to help him see through it all, a Hale in fact. </p>
<p>Stiles and Peter are up for a couple hours talking through the cases trying to come up with reasons for everything. They both want to start solving the cases and getting rid of any hidden malevolent creatures, so they work together. Stiles, at some point, decides he needs a police board and orders one very quickly on amazon. </p>
<p>By the time Peter decides he really should make Stiles go to sleep, it’s been hours. They’ve poured over the files, come up with tentative solutions for a few of the cases, but still aren’t sure which of them are for sure or which of them are just them grasping at straws. Peter keeps telling Stiles that they need to stop, but Stiles is persistent. So eventually, Peter grabs Stiles’ laptop, shut it, and holds it above his head.</p>
<p>“Give that back, Peter! I’m not done!” </p>
<p>“Stiles, you need to be done for tonight. We can get back at this another day, but I know you have school tomorrow, and it’s already been hours. I am going to take this laptop with me. I’ll charge it at my place and return it before you wake up, but I am not letting you keep going.”</p>
<p>“Goddamnit, you fucker. Fine. But I swear, you better return that, it’s expensive. We have to do this, we have to finish.”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course, darling. We will. But not tonight.” Peter lowered the laptop and put it on the desk. He walked over to Stiles and put a hand on his shoulder. “But go to sleep.”</p>
<p>After that, there wasn’t much convincing needed. Stiles sighed and his shoulders relaxed under Peter’s hand. Then he leaned back against the pillows and started snoring. Peter pulled up a blanket and headed out the window. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>The first time Stiles has to really cover for Peter is the literal next day. When Stiles pulls up to school, Scott is like immediately right next to him. “Why do you smell like a werewolf, dude?”</p>
<p>“Maybe because I keep getting harassed by werewolves Scotty. It’s not like Erica, Boyd, Derek, and Isaac have been keeping a low profile.” Stiles says, counting the names on his fingers. And it isn’t technically a lie, so his heart wouldn’t give him away if Scott actually tried to listen in. </p>
<p>“Yeah, it just smells different. I’m probably just on edge with Gerard and stuff.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, probably.” Stiles considers pulling out his phone so he can text Peter and tell him to shower or something before he comes to see Stiles, but pushes the idea out of his mind pretty fast. Stiles and Peter hadn’t exchanged phone numbers for funzies, but for more serious matters, like what had happened the night before. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Stiles does his best to shower after seeing Peter and always had extra strength deodorant in his jeep in case he can’t shower. He still has a few near misses. </p>
<p>Like once, Peter was lounging in Stile’s desk chair while Stiles did homework when suddenly Peter shot out of the window like a bullet from a gun. Stiles figured this meant someone else was about to crash through his window, so he lit a candle and scrambled to sit in the chair. Sure enough, Derek popped through the window to check in. Well he was actually there to see if he could get Stiles funky little secret out, but once again, was unsuccessful. Stiles wondered if he was ever going to give up. He was getting tired of being shoved into walls or choked by clawed hands.</p>
<p>Something else that Stiles considered was that he could do something with his magic to block scent or something. That would work, but he would need to do some research. While Stiles may have been ‘blessed’ with magic, he didn’t have anyone to train him, or help him. He was just left to figure it all out himself, the Moon didn’t even help, which was rude. </p>
<p>So Stiles did some research, asked vague questions to Peter when he decided to show up and prepare Stiles for the week of deceiving his friends, and figured out how to do it. He put the spell on his window frame and it focused on Peter. When he entered, his scent would be dulled by the spell so Stiles wouldn’t have to worry so much about the others finding out Peter was alive before Peter said it was ok. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>But with the amount of practice Stiles had, it was no wonder that someone got very close to his secret. The first time Peter entered the window after Stiles put up the spell, he made a strange face. But Stiles ignored it, and Peter seemed to move past it as well. But it kept happening. Peter would come in, make a weird face then move on, each time giving Stiles a look that Stiles then dutifully ignored. Finally, Peter just straight up asked, “Stiles, do you know there is a scent blocking ward on your window?”</p>
<p>Stiles didn’t really know how to answer that. Because if he said yes, Peter would ask him how he got it, but if he said no, Peter would know he was lying. “Yeah, I knew there was something there.”</p>
<p>“And where might a teenaged boy, who’s only even known about the supernatural for a few months, have found such a ward?”</p>
<p>“Why do you care Peter? I’m just trying to keep everyone off your trail, like you asked.” Not a lie, just a diversion. Hopefully it would push Peter off his ass. Stiles wasn’t sure he could handle two Hale’s on his case at once.</p>
<p>“Fine, Stiles,” Peter said, seemingly pretty exasperated, “now let’s get down to business. There’s some strange creature terrorizing Beacon Hills, and I am going to figure out what it is.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>One time, when Stiles was just going for a walk, not wanting to be in the house at the time, Peter snatched him off of the trail he was one. Stiles would’ve screamed, but Peter had a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, Stiles. It’s me.”</p>
<p>“What the fuck, Peter!” Stiles said, but it came out pretty garbled, as there was still a hand over his mouth. He grabbed Peter’s wrist, right at the pressure point, and dug his fingers in. Shocked, Peter let go and yanked his hand away. </p>
<p>“I could ask the same thing? What was that?”</p>
<p>“That was self defense, you ass. You don’t think I grew up here, as the sheriff’s son, without some basic training, right?”</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to go using it on me. I’m not your enemy!”</p>
<p>Stiles didn’t even give him a response, just a pointed look that pretty much conveyed ‘you sure about that buckaroo?’ Peter rolled his eyes right back. </p>
<p>“You prick. Why did you yank me off the trail? I was enjoying my walk. A man in nature and all that.”</p>
<p>“Sure thing, Stiles. I wanted to tell you that I have a development on the creature. It’s definitely a shifter of some sort, meaning it has a human counter identity.”</p>
<p>“Really? But werewolves don’t really have tails… right?”</p>
<p>“No, Stiles, we don’t have tails. But there’s also a lot more shifters than just werewolves.” Peter felt like Stiles was acting stupid, but he didn’t have any proof. Stiles had always been honest with him, but something about how he seemed ‘surprised’ that there were more than one type of shifter was off. It’s not like Peter could just ask him if he was faking it, not when he barely had the boys trust in the first place. “Just… imagine almost any common animal, it probably has a shifting family. Deer, fox, bears, all those sorts of things.”</p>
<p>“Hmm. That’s cool. So do they all have the same sort of shift? Because this thing looked like a full lizard at the auto shop, but when Scott shifts, it’s just claws and some facial hair.”</p>
<p>“Well, some shifters have a bigger shift than others. For example, for those glorious few hours when I was an alpha, I had the power to trigger a full shift, making me a wolf. But now, I don’t have that power. Derek probably doesn’t have it at this point. Scott might never have it.”</p>
<p>“Weird. Ya know, I’ve been meaning to ask. Scott has super speedy healing and Derek has been shot and healed from it without a scratch, but you’re uhh… well you’re covered in scarring. Why is that?” Stiles often forgot that people’s personal boundaries existed, but when he saw Peter tense up at the question, he felt guilty. “You don’t have to actually answer that if you don’t want. Sorry.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine. It’s just… It’s a long story. And it’s not a happy one. Maybe I will tell you someday.” Peter glanced at Stiles and they made eye contact. Peter could see the guilt in Stiles’ eyes. “You should continue on your walk, wouldn’t want the sheriff to send out a search party. It would be no fun if police officers were the ones that got my big reveal.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think he’s even noticed I’m gone.” Stiles mumbled as he walked back onto the path. “See you around, Zombie Wolf.”</p>
<p>Peter was concerned by that last comment, but Stiles was already on the move and he really didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Well, Stiles was pretty sure he knew exactly what this creature was. Why? Because Derek had announced it to the world right before it had hunted Stiles and Derek right into the Beacon Hills High School pool. Stiles should’ve just left Derek to die, it’s not like he’d done anything for Stiles, ever. But noooooo. Once again, Stiles' morality was throwing a curveball in his life. He was just holding Derek up in a pool, and had been for a while now. But he had to do something. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep this up for a very long time and what was the Kanima gonna do, leave without its prey? Fat chance. So he did what he had to do. He dropped Derek. </p>
<p>Stiles figured Derek was gonna float, at least for a second, but he sunk like a rock. Maybe it’s a werewolf thing. So Stiles swam as fast as he ever had and snatched his phone, narrowly missing the same fate he’d just given to Derek. Stiles dialed Scott. It took like four rings for him to pick up, and when he did, he just hung up, sounding breathless. Stiles was pretty sure he must have been with Alison. So Scott had determined at that point that Stiles screaming his name wasn’t enough to leave his girlfriend. Great. Stiles dropped his phone to the bottom of the pool and then dove down to get Mr. Rock Man Derek. So Stiles held up Derek for another like hour. Eventually, the kanima left, but it sort of looked like it was being pulled away. Stiles was pretty sure it didn’t want to be leaving Stiles and Derek, but something else was pulling it away. But that was something to deal with on a later date. </p>
<p>Stiles swam Derek and himself to the edge. Derek's hands could move so Stiles made him grip the ladder while Stiles hauled himself out. He turned around and yanked Derek out of the pool. “Well, that was a great bonding experience. But I swear to God if I see you again, in the next week, I will kill you. One can only handle so much Derek at a time.” And with that, Stiles left Derek to regain feeling in his limbs. He didn’t really expect for Derek to stay away that long, it was like he was a Hale magnet, but he was pretty sure Derek wouldn’t want to see him for at least a day, so once Stiles was in the safety of Roscoe’s soundproof doors, he called Peter. “Hi, I hope you aren’t murdering anyone right now because I need to talk to you. Come to my house in a half hour.” Stiles pulled a Scott and hung up, not letting Peter get a word in. </p>
<p>Stiles pulled out of the parking lot and went home. He showered quickly, getting the chlorine off, then threw on some sweat pants and an old graphic tee with spiderman swinging across the front. He got in his bed and opened his laptop. Once again, Stiles laughed at himself and wondered if he was on any FBI watchlists because he was about to search up some pretty weird shit. </p>
<p>It was another twenty minutes until Peter showed up, making him late, but Stiles immediately smelled the curly fries and decided to forgive Peter, for now. </p>
<p>“What happened Stiles? What do we need to talk about?” </p>
<p>All of a sudden, Stiles realized that Peter probably thought that Stiles had told someone he was alive. “Oh God, Peter. You’re fine. I didn’t tell anyone. No this has to do with that creature you were talking about.”</p>
<p>The tension visibly left Peter’s shoulders, but his gaze hardened. “You met the kanima.”</p>
<p>“Peter I swear to god! How long did you know it was a fucking Kanima? Did you know last time I saw you? Why didn’t you tell me?” Stiles was already emotionally overdone, but if Peter answered wrong to any of these questions, Stiles was going to lose it. </p>
<p>“Jesus Stiles, no I didn’t know. I only figured it out earlier today. I was going to warn you but I knew you wouldn’t see it because you were focusing on the lacrosse game. Can you please tell me what happened? Because you weren’t even this shaken when you saw me, fresh from the grave.”</p>
<p>Stiles took a few breaths. He shouldn’t have doubted Peter. “It was like… It’s like I know who the kanima is. They’re familiar to me, but I can’t tell exactly who it is. Also, I almost drowned Derek today…”</p>
<p>“You WHAT?! Stiles, if I can’t kill Scott, you can’t kill Derek.”</p>
<p>“I said ALMOST, Peter. And in any case, I might be dropping some of my restrictions on Scott. Melissa is still out of the question but if you ‘accidentally’ hurt Scott a little, I won’t be that mad. I called him while Derek was almost drowning and he hung up on me. I’m pretty sure he was with Alison.”</p>
<p>Peter’s eyes flashed a little, but Stiles could barely tell he was bothered. “I promise to not almost kill Derek again.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine, sometimes he needs to be shown that he can rely on people. Where was his pack, though. You shouldn’t have been forced into that responsibility.”</p>
<p>“Oh they were paralyzed around the school. I’m sure they’re all licking each other's wounds in the woods somewhere by now.”</p>
<p>Peter rolled his eyes at the dog joke, but he had been the one to give permission, so he couldn’t very well take it back now. Peter sat back in the chair that he’d taken to commandeering when in Stiles room. He just sat there and watched Stiles research kanimas and everything that was known about them, real or fake. </p>
<p>“Hey, hey Peter. Kanimas can have masters. People who take advantage of their shift and control them while they’re in their full shift. The only reason Derek and I got out of the pool was because the kanima was like, pulled out.”</p>
<p>“Really? I always felt like that piece was true, but I was never able to see it in action.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, and it would make sense, right? Like the thing looked like it was being pulled by a leash. It didn’t want to leave, but it was being forced away. This source also says that if we can find the master, we can find the true identity of the kanima and help it through it’s transition. It just has to realize who it is. Derek said that kanimas lose their identity in their first shift, but once they realize who they are, they go through a second transformation and they have total control like a werewolf.</p>
<p>“Ok, so we have to find the identity of both the kanima and the master, how hard could it be?”</p>
<p>“Don’t be like that Peter. I know you have resources. We’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. We will.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>[This is Peter’s perspective for after the evening]</p>
<p>So Stiles trusted him enough to call him when in a crisis. Stiles may not have shown it on purpose, but Peter could tell he was still panicking; who wouldn’t be, the evening's event had to have been terrifying, if not traumatizing. </p>
<p>But this was an interesting development because until now, Peter had been trying to keep his own and his wolf’s feelings for the boy out of their dealings. He was pretty sure this was going to be pretty hard if Stiles continued to ask him for help or even just ask him to come when Stiles is in crisis. There was something about the boy, well two somethings. Both made his wolf want to protect Stiles at all costs. One thing was a pull at his most internal wolf instincts and the inherent magic that was in his blood. The other thing was something much closer to his heart and soul. </p>
<p>Peter didn’t have time to decipher the mixed signals that his body was sending him. He needed to find the kanima and it’s master before it caused Stiles any more harm, physically or mentally. Peter realized that he probably should have reassured Stiles more. Independence was Stiles’ middle name, but Peter wanted to help show the boy that he could depend on him. </p>
<p>Yet another surprising development in the night, Peter wanted more than to protect Stiles. He wanted Stiles to want him. This was going to throw some knots in his plans, because who was Peter but a self-indulgent man who was willing to go for the things that he wanted.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter is gonna be about post-Nogitsune. I know that I am skipping a bunch of plot, but this is the move I am making for the betterment of this story. I'll see you when I see you. Peace out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Growth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stiles has a blast at college, but it flies by. He has to go home to solve some problems.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we are. I got some ideas now. The creative juices are flowing!</p>
<p>There are two of my OCs in this chapter, but they probably won't be super big parts of the story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter had fully intended to stop using Stiles once he made his great comeback. But it turns out, emotional connection is harder to shrug off than you’d hope, especially when you haven’t had true emotional connection with anyone in almost a decade. Good one Peter, just let your wolf get the best of you, again. It didn’t help that the pack seemed dead set on pushing the two together. Stiles as the pack human and Peter as the pack psycho were always left behind. Stiles and Peter put on some really good shows of being angry about it but once the pack was out of ear shot they would sit on the floor or on the couch or at the kitchen table and just talk. Peter would sometimes help Stiles get his homework done while other times they would talk about supernatural creatures. Stiles grew his well of knowledge greatly while helping Peter work out some of his clogged thoughts. Other times they just bonded, talking about all sorts of things from favorite foods to funny moments in their pasts’. </p>
<p>Peter’s wolf was dying. It wanted to be around Stiles all the time and be scenting him and make Stiles realize that Peter was a good provider and making Stiles his. But Peter couldn’t do that. He was twice the boy's age, and also the town psycho, but his wolf had no boundaries. It continued to press him towards Stiles and Stiles was so receptive. When Peter started to sit closer to him during their bonding, he moved closer to. When one day on the couch, Peter put his arm on the back of the couch and Stiles scooted into his side, Peter almost purred. It was bad. </p>
<p>Peter wasn’t the only one that meant to drop the budding relationship once Peter re-entered Beacon Hills society. But Stiles was also struggling with it. Peter was the first person in so long that listened to him chatter and mumble about everything and was always there for him when he was anxious. Peter made sure he was healthy and kept up with his work. No one had even tried to understand how Stiles was feeling for years. So he just kept talking to Peter and hanging out with Peter and thinking about Peter. Maybe he should have stopped himself, before he got too attached, but he just couldn’t. The comfort he received from Peter’s always open arms was something so new and readily accepted. Stiles couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed when he started to be closer to Peter in general: sitting next to him on the stairs at pack meetings, touching his arm or back when they were in a room together, even once cuddling next to him on the couch on a day when the pack had left them alone, yet again.</p>
<p>So their relationship developed. The pack, clueless as ever, didn’t pick up on anything. Stiles’ dad would probably be mad if he was ever sober enough to notice Stiles was coming home later and later, usually in Peter’s obnoxiously fancy car instead of driving Roscoe everywhere. The only thing that seemed to take notice was the spirit living in Stiles, and that was infinitely annoying. They were pushing Stiles towards Peter every chance they got. Feeling of contentment and a pull of something every single goddamn time he made eye contact with Peter. Stiles would be angrier if he didn’t know that at least 75% of those emotions came from himself, not the moon. Which was embarrassing, but a sixteen year old boy is gonna feel like a 16 year old boy, ok. </p>
<p>To anyone that asked (not that anyone did ask) Stiles just said that he and Peter were mutually beneficial acquaintances. They helped each other out with information and stuff. The ‘stuff’ in question remained unspecified, again, not that anyone did ask. No one cared enough to notice that Stiles seemed to have a friend other than Peter and Peter was that friend. Did Stiles call him a friend? Sure. That worked. Good description of the relationship they all had. </p>
<p>Anyways, Stiles now had a friend. Sure, he could call the pack his friends, but he didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and he had noodle arms. Not even Scott. Peter had helped him realize that Scott and Stiles hadn’t been friends in a long time, just people drifting on a similar path. There had been a big argument between the two, Peter giving concrete examples of times that Scott failed as a whole person while Stiles tried to convince him that they had always been friends, so what could stop them now. Clearly, Stiles had come to his senses. But Peter and Stiles both had some unspoken obligation to stay, even though they could leave if they wanted. </p>
<p>That was something the moon had strong opinions on. They’d loved Scott at first, bestowing the True Alpha power upon him, but the second he’d received it, his whole demeanor had changed. He was suddenly all powerful and always the strongest and best and had the best ideas. The moon had quickly realized their mistake, but taking power back was much harder than bestowing it, and Stiles wasn’t ready for that kind of magic yet. Even being in the same room as Scott had Stiles’ skin itching with power fighting to release, but his ADHD was a great excuse for the constant scratching, itching, and rubbing. It also explained his zoning out. Maybe he was talking down the moon, maybe he was just zoning out, no one would ever know. Maybe he didn’t actually have ADHD, just a needy spirit living inside him. </p>
<p>But for the next two years, every fight that Stiles was unkindly forced out of, he stayed back with Peter. They had a variety of entertaining activities to partake in, ranging from watching shit movies to working on Stiles’ close combat (Sheriff managed self defense just wasn’t cutting it anymore). If Peter wasn’t allowed to stay, Stiles would go to Peter’s apartment and make food, then bandage him up if he needed it or just feed him if he was exhausted. They had a system that only cemented itself into their brains as Stiles worked his way through high school. With all his new free time for school work (where he wasn’t worried about his father walking in and throwing some abuse at him, verbal or physical) he surpassed Lydia quickly in school. Wasn’t helpful for the pack dynamic, but great for Stiles’ ego, and when Stiles started gaining confidence, well that was bad for Peter’s integrity. </p>
<p>The two years of watching Stiles blossom into an attractive young man were brutal. At first Peter thought it would be smart to teach Stiles self defense, but having to touch the boy, even if it was in combat, tested his self control every second. Then Stiles started to get better, and stronger, and Peter had to face an opponent who wasn’t afraid to fight dirty. And it was horrible. It was glorious, but it was torturous. Because Peter was not going to make the first move. He couldn’t. </p>
<p>Stiles sure wanted to test Peter, though. He provided for Peter, making him food and helping him with any longer lasting injuries. He was always around Peter and he was a steady force of connection to the real world when Peter felt like the world was falling out from under his feet. The pack bond that had wormed its way into Peter’s soul was something he found himself leaning on everyday. Probably too much. But they don’t need to get into that. </p>
<p>When Stiles decided to move all the way to New York for college, to the one place Peter couldn’t follow him in the world, Peter was devastated. But he drove Stiles to the airport and insisted on carrying his bags in and walked him to the check in and gave him one last hug at the  security checkpoint. Peter moved to pull back but Stiles just pulled him in tighter for several more seconds. He kept his hands on Peter’s arms, a conflicted look in his eyes. And hell, if this didn’t test Peter’s self control more than any other moment in the past three years. And then, it got worse. Stiles jerked forwards and kissed Peter on the cheek.</p>
<p>“Bye, Peter! I’ll visit.”</p>
<p>“Stiles I… I will see you when you visit.” Peter was not blushing. Nope. Werewolves don’t blush and Peter was definitely not blushing. And he definitely didn’t blush more when Stiles sent his signature dazzling smile that only Peter got to see.</p>
<p>“See you then.” And he turned away. Peter watched him get through the first piece of the checkpoint and also turned away.</p>
<p>Stiles was terrified to be leaving Beacon Hills for the first time. He knew he needed time to grow into his magic more, away from prying eyes, but it was still terrifying. The last thing he did was probably too reckless, but he couldn’t leave Peter without a sign of his affection for the man. It was the least he could do for deciding to go to college in the one town that he knew Peter couldn’t return to. They’d never gotten very into the subject of Peter losing his family, but Stiles knew it was in New York. It was just his luck that he’d gotten a dreamy tuition price and it was far away from this hell hole of a town. So he’d kissed Peter on the cheek, then rushed towards security, calling one last goodbye. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Peter had stopped him or said anything else than another bye. He might have cancelled his whole college career. But all he’d felt were Peter’s eyes gazing into his back until he got past the first part of security. When the moon started whining, he looked back to see Peter’s receding back. He turned around quickly, not risking anymore glances for fear of running through the airport and back into Peter’s arms. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Stiles set into a pattern quickly. He spent the first week setting into a normal person schedule, classes, homework, friends, studying, sleeping, eating, all that jazz. The second week was spent investigating the local supernatural scene. He needed to know what the energy was like, good or bad. How many creatures lived here and how many packs of shifters were near? What were the kinds of magic users and how did they treat fresh meat? The week of observation was tedious, but lucrative. He found a couple of spots that were worth investigating further and noticed a girl following him after the first day. He’d kept the moon looking after her, making sure that she wasn’t planning anything nefarious, but she just seemed to be following him for now. </p>
<p>Color Stiles impressed, because he’d kept himself hidden well, well enough that he could have fooled his old pack, though that wasn’t saying much. They tended to forget that they had super senses. So this girl’s persistence was impressive, impressive enough for Stiles to corner her. </p>
<p>“Howdy. What can I do for you at this fine hour of,” he wriggled his wrist till his watch fell out of his sleeve, “1:47 am?”</p>
<p>She looked afraid. And ashamed. She did not mean to get caught and she was not ready for the consequences. Good thing Stiles was a good dude. </p>
<p>“I’m not gonna hurt you. I just wanna know why you’re tailing me!”</p>
<p>“Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t tailing you?”</p>
<p>“Nope! But I do suggest that you get into your explanation, because my patience is wearing thin. I don’t like to be followed.” His eyes got dark, and a light grimace fell onto his face. He knew that he could be intimidating as long as he played his cards right.</p>
<p>“Shit. Ok. So, you’re magic. Hope you knew that. And I’m a familiar. And my master wanted me to see what you were up to cause he noticed that you were looking around some back lit magic spots. And here we are.”</p>
<p>“You’re a familiar? Come on now, you should be better than this.” Stiles knew all about familiars, had been approached by a few in his life, and he knew that they should be much more subtle… “unless your master is a novice.”</p>
<p>“No, no he’s really powerful, old magic.”</p>
<p>“He?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Come on now. If you know that I’m magic, then we both know I could just do a little lookie look,” he pressed some magic into the familiar’s head, looking at her most recent memory of himself, “and see what’s in there. But we also know that it wouldn’t be any fun for you, now would it?” Her pained face was answer enough. Stiles had dealt with an unfriendly spirit trying to kill the moon once, he knew how it felt to have someone root through your memories, it was horrendous. </p>
<p>“Please don’t. But I really can’t tell you who he is. Really. He’ll be so mad.”</p>
<p>Stiles didn’t even respond, just dug a little deeper, looking for the first time she’d come across him. She grunted in pain, squeezing her eyes shut, but keeping her resolve, sort of. “Come on. Help me out. I really don’t want to hurt you, but I’m not afraid to make enemies.”</p>
<p>“Shit, shit ok. Let me take you to him.”</p>
<p>Stiles gave her an unimpressed look. “So he can ambush me? I don’t think so. How about we all meet for a coffee, somewhere bright and public? Say… tomorrow around two at the Starbucks just south of campus?”</p>
<p>“What campus?” </p>
<p>“Don’t play dumb. I know your master either is at my school or knows of it. And you’ve followed me back there, but you can’t quite seem to find my dorm, huh? Must be hard. See you tomorrow, though!”</p>
<p>Stiles didn’t look back at her, but did activate the boots he’d carved into his combat boots, preventing her from using magic to track him. If she wanted to follow him now, it would have to be physically, and he’d evaded her enough times that she just gave up. The moon kept their eyes on her as she walked through some alleys, shifting into a crow. They really wanted Stiles to follow her, but it was not in Sitles schedule for the night. At least it was Saturday, and he wouldn’t have to worry about classes the next day. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Stiles showed up to the coffee shop fifteen minutes early, but still didn’t beat the boy he was there to meet. He could feel the familiar tendrils of his magic curling around his feet. If Stiles were more like Peter, he’d have visibly scoffed, but Stiles had spent so much time around Scott that he kept his face passive and confused. He did use his magic to effectively burn the tendrils out of the air. Then he just followed the singed trail to a nice looking boy sitting at a corner table in the shop.</p>
<p>“Stiles Stilinski! What can I do for you?”</p>
<p>“What the hell, dude. That hurt out there!” The boy’s aura did look a little singed, but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to feel bad. That was a nasty trick, especially if they thought he was a novice. His magic would’ve been sucked dry for the next several days and that wasn’t behavior that Stiles tolerated from anyone. </p>
<p>“Then don’t try to trap me, next time.”</p>
<p>“Next time?”</p>
<p>“That depends on what you have to say. Why are you so interested in me?”</p>
<p>“Well. Ok, it’s sort of a long story.”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you start with your name. I was so nice to offer you my own.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, ok. Wilson.”</p>
<p>“So Wilson, are you paying for coffee?” Wilson looked a little lost. Sometimes Stiles forgets that not everyone had three years to hone their snarky speaking skills and learning how to keep a conversation shifting fast. He must be moving too fast for the poor boy. “I’ll pay for coffee and let you collect your thoughts a little. I would like a short, concise version of whatever story you’re going to tell me. Preferably the truth, but I’ll take what you can give. What’s your order?”</p>
<p>Once Stiles had all the different pieces of Wilson’s order down (how could one boy need so many added pumps of flavoring?) he moved to the line. He felt Wilson’s eyes on the back of his head, but didn’t make any move to look back at him. Though Stiles was exuding confidence, he was nervous. He needed to know why the boy was following him, and if Wilson was following him, how many others were following him too?</p>
<p>He sat at the table, and pulled a leg up to rest his chin on his knee. </p>
<p>“Can we start over?” Wilson asked, hands wrapping around his blended drink, the coolness of it seeming to calm him down a little. </p>
<p>“Sure.” Stiles took a long draw of his matching drink. It was sweet, really sweet, but Stiles had always had a sweet tooth, so he didn’t mind. </p>
<p>“Ok. Hi. I’m Wilson. You met my familiar Aria last night, or uhh, early this morning. I’m not watching you with any malicious intent. I just noticed a shift in the energy a couple weeks ago and was keeping an eye on some magic spots when you showed up at almost every single one. So, I decided to follow you.”</p>
<p>“Energy magic, then. Why somewhere so populated?”</p>
<p>Wilson’s eyes widened. Magic users weren’t supposed to give up their magic type easily, and he’d thought it had been subtle. This guy was way more powerful than he was letting on. “Yeah. Uhh, it’s stronger around people.”</p>
<p>“So then, not keeping track of energy, but using it.”</p>
<p>“How the hell do you know all this? Did you dig into Aria’s head more than she told me?”</p>
<p>“Oh, Gods no. I felt dirty even pushing at her a little bit. I’m just experienced.”</p>
<p>“Experienced at what? Your energy levels are so low on the charts it took me seeing you like five times to realize you were the energy shift.” Wilson seemed perplexed, not insulting, but Stiles is an instigator.</p>
<p>“That was very disrespectful. You should respect magic users you know nothing about.” Stiles narrowed his eyes and let a little light filter into his irises. Wilson cowered, and it was almost enough to make Stiles feel better about himself.</p>
<p>“You’re- you’re right. I-I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Don’t piss yourself. I’m kidding.”</p>
<p>“Gods, you’re not a kind person, you know that?”</p>
<p>“How dare you! I’m a great person. I carry spiders outside instead of smushing them.”</p>
<p>Wilson didn’t seem sure enough in himself to decide whether he wanted to cry or laugh. He let out a stressed giggle. Stiles gave him a warm smile. He internally high fived himself, he’d successfully changed the subject and Wilson was going through way too many emotions to even notice.</p>
<p>“Want to be friends? I need connections here.”</p>
<p>“You want to be friends with the stalker who started following you?”</p>
<p>“Totes.”</p>
<p>Wilson visibly cringed at the word. “Do you have no self-preservation?”</p>
<p>“I’ll let you in on a secret, and you can decide your answer to that intrusive question. I used to run with werewolves for fun.”</p>
<p>Wilson was slowly realizing that he had no idea what he was getting himself into with this unassuming boy in front of his. This was going to be a blast. “Let’s be friends.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Stiles and Wilson got themselves into all sorts of trouble, magic and non-magic. Stiles was still understanding what it meant to have a friend, only ever really having two, one of which sucks now. But Wilson was like a long lost brother. They got along so well, and Aria opened up to Stiles too, which he’d never expected after pushing her mind around. </p>
<p>And this was really friendship. Peter and Stiles had danced around the true motivations behind their relationship for the entire time, but Stiles and Wilson were just friends. Just, magic using hooligans. Just troubled youths causing a ruckus in the magic underbelly of New York. Wilson introduced Stiles to a magic tattoo shop that gave you ink that helped focus and store your magic. Stiles introduced Wilson to fighting. This trade off was more fair than you’d think, because Wilson’s magic relied so heavily on the energy of the people around him, so training to collect that energy and use it against your opponent was almost as good as being able to store it. </p>
<p>Stiles flourished alongside Wilson his four years away. They flourished with each other, to be honest. Stiles taught Wilson how to manipulate his magic so that people would underestimate him. Wilson taught Stiles about how to communicate with other magic users more kindly. They built a little infrastructure for young magic users in New York, people who didn’t feel like they fit in with the community of old magic in the area. Stiles was so careful the entire time he was in New York to be vague about where he was from and if anyone brought up the True Alpha that was pretty much tearing apart the West coast, he acted like it was the first he’d heard. Peter and him stayed in contact, so Stiles always knew the knitty gritty before anyone else, but it was hard to hear about the effect Scott was having on the supernatural community. </p>
<p>But it was time to go back to Beacon Hills. Stiles was terrified, but he knew that there was no way he could let his old friend cause such ripples in the supernatural community. There were too many bad effects to Scott’s ‘negotiation’ tactics. He had to deal with that, and if he finally got to deal with Peter and that little part of his soul that had been aching since he’d turned away from Peter at the airport, then that would be great too. </p>
<p>One thing Stiles was surprised but grateful for was Lydia. She’d been so enamored with the supernatural community that she’d followed Scott blindly for the three years of high school. But then she’d gone to Yale, found her own supernatural group of friends and realized exactly how awful Scott had been and was continuing to be. One day, out of the blue, Stiles had received an email from Lydia, expressing her apologies and talking about how she felt like there was a lot of responsibility on her part for where Scott was today. They talked and caught up and Stiles would go as far as to call them pals. Not quite friends, but maybe one day. When Lydia had told him she was going back to Beacon Hills after Yale released, he was excited. They could meet up and really get to know the new versions of each other, online communication wasn’t much for really understanding a person.</p>
<p>It was hard for Stiles to stop himself from gushing about his magic and his growth, but no one in Beacon Hills knew about his magic. He wanted to reveal it to his friends in Beacon Hills soon, but he had to see how it went with Peter, first. He had faith that it would be fine, but he wasn’t sure about the reactions of everyone else’s reaction. He wasn’t sure what they would feel about his old pack realizing he wasn’t the weak human they all thought he was. </p>
<p>But he was feeling a little weak at the moment. He had asked Peter to come pick him up from the airport when he got in, but it was a late night flight and he wasn’t booking a hotel. He was pretty much inviting himself to Peter’s apartment. He could always go home, but he’d heard that his dad wasn’t doing great so he’d told the man he was arriving the next day. This wasn’t the first time he was visiting, but it had been two years. He’d gotten caught up, ok. He worked at the school over the summer and he requested to stay in his dorm over the breaks. He was making connections, building trust, ya know, things that Peter had taught him! But he’d missed the man every goddamn day, and he was making Peter pick him up. Maybe it was a horrible idea, maybe it would go great. He wouldn’t know until it happened, and for now he needed to focus on finals.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Teehee, hope you like this. I don't have the next piece ready, but I am getting into it. Sorry if the shifting POVs were a little weird.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Changes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Domestic life, a little conflict, and settling into Beacon Hills.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was finally time. Stiles had become quite the minimalist, and could fit everything important to him in two bags, one was checked and one was on his person. He kept most of his magic and school supplies in his carry-on, not risking any unwanted eyes peeking at his belongings. He could ward a bag all he wants, but someone who cares enough isn’t going to be stopped. </p><p>The flight was not horrible, but Stiles never liked to fly. He was an ‘on-the-ground’ kind of guy. His nerves were already shot because of his complete lack of sleep and worrying about everything that was going to happen with Scott and Allison and oh god what about Peter? It was messy, and stressful, but Stiles wouldn’t change it. He needed this. So he sat through the flight, only fidgeting most of the time. It was about 11pm when he arrived at the Sacramento airport. He was tired and his body was aching from being scrunched in the plane for so long, but his mind was buzzing with excitement to see Peter. To touch Peter. To see Peter’s smile lines. To see Peter’s smile. </p><p>Maybe he was a little infatuated… no one could blame him. Even the moon wanted to see Peter. They were buzzing under his skin, pooling in his collection tattoos, flowing through veins practically trying to burst out of Stiles just to get through the airport faster. Stiles was pushing it too, almost breaking into a jog to get to the baggage claim. </p><p>Then, he saw him. Peter looked fabulous, as always. A leather jacket fitting against his shoulders and jeans hugging his body. His eyes were squinting at his phone. Stiles stopped, staring for a moment longer, until he realized he wouldn’t be able to hug the man unless they were closer. So he broke into a run. His sneakers squeaking on the floor alerted Peter to his presence, and the way his face lit up brought true joy to Stiles’ heart. He jumped a couple feet away from Peter and wrapped his arms around Peter’s shoulders. </p><p>“Stiles, Stiles, Stiles. Oh gods I missed you so much.” Peter murmured into Stiles' ear as he spun them around.</p><p>“Me too, Gods me too Peter.”  Stiles let himself be set down and just clutched Peter tighter for a few seconds. Finally he pulled back and saw the mirth in Peter’s eyes as they met his own. </p><p>“You got taller.” Peter said with a soft smile.</p><p>“You got shorter.” Stiles responds with a devious one.</p><p>“You have more tattoos.”</p><p>“I could still get you some if you want.”</p><p>“Come on, you gremlin. Let’s get your bag. We still have quite the drive ahead of us.”</p><p>“Can we get ice cream?”</p><p>“Are you a child?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“We can get ice cream.”</p><p>“Hell yeah! Peter, you are the absolute best. How did I ever live without you?”</p><p>“I couldn’t tell you.” </p><p>Stiles made a ballsy move. He grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him over to the roundabout that matched his flight. Remember kids, werewolves don’t blush. The red tint that fell over Peter’s face (you know, the one that was matching with Stiles) was just… being surrounded by so many people. His leather jacket was too hot. Werewolves really don’t blush. Never. Nope. Nada. Especially not Peter. But just because he was warm didn’t mean he was going to let go of Stiles’ hand. No, that was not an option. That hand was not going to be leaving his hand for as long as Peter could help it. When Stiles (who was avoiding Peter’s eyes like a champ) pointed out his dark red bag, Peter was the one to pull them forward. Stiles made a move to grab the bag, but Peter was faster, and he slung the bag over his free arm. </p><p>“You’re already carrying one, I should carry the other. It’s only fair.” Peter didn’t mention that if Stiles had grabbed that bag, he would have had to drop Peter’s hand, which was, as previously mentioned, not an option. Peter led them to his car.</p><p>“You still drive this thing?” Stiles looked incredulous as he eyed the bright red monstrosity. </p><p>“How else are people to know how great I am?”</p><p>“They just have to look at you.” Stiles really didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it was too late. And Peter was not-blushing again. </p><p>“But with my tinted windows, they can’t see me!”</p><p>“What a shame.” </p><p>“Truly.” Peter opened the back of the car and they both slung the bags they were carrying into the back, Stiles being very gentle with his. Stiles let go of his hand and walked to the passenger door, sliding in like he belonged. </p><p>When Peter rested his hand on the gear shift, getting ready to pull out, he was pleasantly surprised that Stiles rested his hand on it as well. Stiles didn’t look up from his phone and started to search up directions to the nearest DQ.</p><p>“You were serious about the ice cream?” Peter was surprised. He knew Stiles liked ice cream, but it was almost midnight. “You know that nowhere is going to be open right now, yeah?”</p><p>“Oh shit! You’re right. Well, we are in Sacramento, I bet there’s a twenty four hour cookie place somewhere.”</p><p>“Cookies?”</p><p>“Yes, cookies.”</p><p>“Get directions.” Peter sighed. There was no way he could say no to Stiles, not even if he was exhausted and wanted to go to home. </p><p>“Yes! Hell yeah, Peter. You’re the best.” And Stiles had said yet another thing he didn’t really mean to say. Oops. Was Peter not-blushing again? Maybe. It really was too dark to tell. Stiles started to spout out directions, getting them to the closest 24 hour cookie place. Stiles got Peter’s order and was in and out of the store so fast Peter was sure it was magic (haha). Peter turned the car back on and began the long drive to Beacon Hills. </p><p>“Am I right to assume that you aren’t going to your own house tonight?”</p><p>Stiles is silent. He takes a bite of his cookie and chews it for much longer than he needed to. “Yeah. If that’s alright.”</p><p>“It’s no problem, Stiles. You are always welcome at my home.”</p><p>Stiles was quiet again. He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He knew how big of a deal it was for Peter to ever invite someone to his home, especially in such an open ended way. He just pushed his fingers into the top of Peter’s hand. They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence. Stiles reached with his other hand to fiddle with the radio after a while and soon he was singing along to the music playing. Stiles just felt so good like this, sitting next to Peter, eating horrible sugar, and listening to whatever was on the radio. It just felt so comfortable. </p><p>--</p><p>Stiles took the first few days to reintroduce himself to Beacon Hills and the Nemeton’s magic. It was hard to sneak away from Peter, and he felt guilty doing it, but he knew it was for the best if his magic could just stay secret for a little bit longer. He stuck to escaping at night, and reacquainting himself with the people of Beacon Hills during the day.</p><p>The first day, he saw his father. It was just as draining and horrible as he thought it would be, especially when Noah practically had a heart attack when he saw Stiles’ skin. Then Noah lectured him on how horrible it was that he’d been away for so long and he pretty much just got angry that Stiles had made a life for himself. Stiles still restocked the fridge and the cabinets with the good groceries that he’d bought before making his way to his childhood home and made a couple pre-packed meals. He left, barely having said anything as his dad’s words had gotten more and more slurred. Stiles took several bottles of alcohol with him, knowing that there were probably several more hiding a little better. But it was the least he could do. </p><p>The second day he caught up with Lydia. He let her talk his ear off, too. They talked about school and boys and life. It was simple and Stiles had an amazing time. There were no obligations in their conversation, there was no pressure between them to put on a persona. Lydia ranted about Jackson and him running off to Europe with Ethan, though Stiles can feel her affection towards him. She was happy for Jackson, she just had always relied on him, and wasn’t sure what to do now that he was across the world from her. She also rants about school and picking the job that she wants (she got a lot of offers). Stiles always knew she’d go places in the world. </p><p>Then Lydia talks about the Pack and how she’s been immersing herself back into the culture. It was different, with some new members and odd dynamics between the members Stiles and Lydia had left behind. Allison was ruthless, had been like that since the nogitsune had almost killed her. She forced Scott into a non-magic agreement with the members in their pack. It was jarring to hear, but Stiles was confident in himself at this point, he knew that even if Allison was against him, he would be strong. Allison may hold it against him that he was possessed, but that wasn’t his problem, he would still figure something out to tell the pack about his magic. </p><p>When they were done, Stiles slipped through the crowds and made his way back to Peter’s apartment. He was exhausted. Thinking about Scott for so long was devastating the walls Stiles had put up around those memories. He called out for Peter but when the man didn’t come right to the front room, Stiles walked to his room to find him. He didn’t find Peter, but he did find Peter’s pleasantly unmade bed and his exhausted body easily convinced him to curl up in the covers, surrounded by Peter’s subtle scent. </p><p>The third day, Stiles sat in Peter’s apartment and baked for the whole day. Baked cookies, brownies, cake, muffins, cupcakes, every baked good he could remember a general recipe for. All the windows in the apartment were open as Peter flitted around, throwing worried glances at Stiles the entire time, but Stiles couldn’t stop. The stress from his father, his revelations about Scott and Allison’s pack, and just Stiles being back in this place that had brought him so much pain was finally catching up to him, and this was the way he worked through it. When the oven was full and he was waiting for it to finish before starting his next good (he was making more cookies, they were easy and there were tons of ways to change a recipe), he barely processed Peter walking up to him before the man had his arms wrapped gently around his shoulders.</p><p>Stiles didn’t respond right away, being brought back into his body after such a tumultuous day was a hard experience. Then he let the first wave of tears wrack through his body. He reached his arms up and grabbed Peter’s shirt like it was a lifeline and he let his emotions out. He kept his eyes clenched closed, knowing if they opened, they would probably be glowing. He let it go until the timer went off, some ten minutes later. By then his sobs had dwindled to deep, shuddering breaths. When he pulled back, he cringed at the mess he’d left on Peter’s shirt. The man looked significantly less worried than he had all day, though, which was nice. It was a good look on Peter. Not that everything wasn’t a good look on Peter. </p><p>“Thanks.” Stiles sniffed. </p><p>“You want to talk?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Ok. What do you want to do with all these goods, they definitely aren’t getting eaten by only us.”</p><p>“Are you doubting my metabolism?”</p><p>“Stiles. Look at my kitchen. You can’t eat all of this, not if you want to eat it fresh.”</p><p>Stiles did glance around the kitchen there and was a little ashamed to find almost every surface covered in some baked good. “We could bring some to Lydia and then the rest to our local homeless shelter.” </p><p>“Sounds like an excellent idea. I know they’ll appreciate it.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Stiles didn’t make any more cookies, but he and Peter did get to work with wrapping and bagging the goods then placing them in several paper bags from grocery runs. It was domestic and calm and exactly what Stiles now numb brain needed. His movements were robotic and practiced.</p><p>Peter would have worried about the practiced edge that Stiles seemed to have, but he knew that there were likely many times in New York where he’d stress baked then needed to deliver the food to someone. Peter didn’t keep close tabs on the boy, knowing that he would reach out if he ever really needed something, but he knew that college was stressful, especially on someone who was so far from where they grew up. </p><p>That night, after Stiles had taken a quick shower, he stood in Peter’s doorway for a moment. It should be cleared up that Stiles had a bedroom in the apartment. Peter had made sure to have a guest room, so when Stiles came back from New York with him and didn’t show any signs of leaving, Peter gave it to him. It was really too much work to act ok when Stiles scent permeated the couch so quickly. </p><p>But tonight, Stiles was frayed and tired from the day. His emotions had gotten the best of him and he was exhausted and <em>cold</em>. His soul was cold. This (and the moon’s constant pushing) was how he found himself standing in Peter’s doorway, asking “can we sleep together tonight?”</p><p>Peter felt himself blushing and was endlessly glad that the main light source was from the hallway and Stiles likely couldn’t see it. Surely, Stiles didn’t mean it <em>that</em> way. Stiles also seemed to realize what he said, as he started spluttering.</p><p>“Oh Gods, no not like that. Oh Gods I’m sorry. I just mean… I mean like, can we cuddle. Gods I understand if you say no. Sorry.”</p><p>“Stiles.” Peter just raised the covers next to him, opening them to the flustered boy. Peter’s wolf made it abundantly clear that Stiles had never said he didn’t want that, just not tonight. Peter scolded it and said that he never said he wanted to ‘sleep together’ and it should calm the heck down. It didn’t even attempt to listen as Stiles scurried across the room and curled into the little space. At first, Stiles seemed to be wary of touching Peter, but when Peter gently put an arm around his shoulders, becoming the big spoon, Stiles relaxed against the man. Peter could smell his stress and anxiety and something deeper, something a touch darker. He just let Stiles bundle himself in the blankets and Peter’s arms. </p><p>--</p><p>The next morning, they brought the goods to the homeless shelter and a couple of kitchens that fed homeless people. They were insanely grateful for the large donations. They left a dozen muffins at Lydia’s front door, not wanting to enter an area that smelled very strongly of Scott to Peter. They went back to Peter’s apartment and Stiles put away the dishes that he’d washed the night before. “We probably need more of like every baking ingredient.”</p><p>“Yeah, I figured.”</p><p>This was the fourth day, and it was the first day that Stiles stayed at Peter’s apartment. Finally, they took time to catch up with each other. Peter told Stiles about some of his more stressful cases in Sacramento and Stiles gave vague stories about himself and two of his friends in college. Stiles couldn’t even remember everything they talked about, but he did know he’d gone through several cups of coffee by the end, and was buzzing to let out some of this artificial energy. </p><p>“Peter, do you want to go on a run in the preserve?”</p><p>“Scott has people in the preserve. I’m down but he might be told that you’re back.”</p><p>“Nah, they won’t know we are there.”</p><p>“Not all of his pack is as hopeless as the pack you left behind.”</p><p>“Peter, they aren’t going to know. I’m going anyway. Do you want to come or not?”</p><p>“Fine.” Peter had no idea how Stiles expected to stay hidden from the many wolves and other creatures in the woods, but his heartbeat hadn’t skipped a beat, so he believed him. They changed into running clothes and they walked out of the apartment. The preserve was close enough to walk, and Peter’s monstrosity of a car would be much too noticeable. </p><p>“I know that Patrick Halker has to be rich enough to have two cars. Why do you insist on that <em>thing</em>.” Stiles brings up as they reach the path into the preserve that Stiles wants to take.</p><p>“Oh, so we are on a pseudonym basis now, are we? And I will have you know that my car is my pride and joy and I will not allow her to be slandered this way.” Peter wasn’t even surprised that Stiles had figured it out. He was too clever for his own good.</p><p>Stiles looked a little dejected, and confirmed the feeling when he said, “That was supposed to be surprising! Do you know how long it took me to figure out where you go every day, especially without a car of my own?”</p><p>“You didn’t just ask Lydia?”</p><p>“Lydia knows?”</p><p>“Of course she knows. She’s been virtually interning with me practically her whole college experience. She wanted office experience, even if it’s not a math based office.”</p><p>“And you didn’t tell me?”</p><p>“And you didn’t ask?”</p><p>“You’re the worst, Peter.” They were jogging now but Stiles wasn’t even breathing hard. Peter wondered, and not for the first time, what exactly Stiles had gotten up to in New York. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what those tattoos were. They were for magic users. Peter remembered the experience with the Mountain Ash, but Stiles had never gone any further with his practices to Peter’s knowledge. </p><p>“You know I try.” Peter just smirked back. </p><p>“Insufferable.” Stiles just giggled after that. </p><p>“I’m not the only one.” Peter snarked back. </p><p>The rest of the run was passed in small bouts of talking and snarking and Peter never even smelled a remnant of Scott’s pack. When they got back to the apartment and they’d both showered, Peter cornered Stiles.</p><p>“Stiles. I know you’re hiding something and I know that it probably has something to do with magic. I won’t force it out of you, but I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”</p><p>“You’re reminding me of a certain other Hale that I know. Derek also knew I was hiding something. Never figured it out though… Wonder if you will?” Stiles didn’t even try to hide it. He knew he couldn’t lie to Peter, and he didn’t want to. He wanted to tell Peter, he <em>wanted</em> Peter to know about this part of him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it yet. </p><p>“Did he now…”</p><p>“Oh yeah, and he tried all sorts of things to get it out of me. The most memorable tactic being trying to intimidate me into the truth.” Stiles fondly thought back to the many times he’d been shoved up against a wall or growled at. Good times.</p><p>“I can assure you that I will be much more tasteful.”</p><p>“I’m sure you will.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is speeding up a little, I'm hoping to introduce a little more conflict next chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Brewing Storms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stiles hangs out with Scott, talks with Peter, and makes an ally.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles was starting to realize that Scott was doing a really bad job. He’d never been a great supernatural liaison before, but now there was nothing helping him, especially since the only magic his pack was involved with was pack bonds. Even Deaton had abandoned Scott’s pack for the relative safety of getting as far from Beacon Hills as possible. But back to Scott.</p>
<p>There was not a single threat that had been properly handled in Beacon Hills for approximately four years. Of course, Stiles was aware of the second hand damage that Scott was causing (thanks Peter) but he had no idea the level of destruction it had caused. </p>
<p>On the first night that Stiles escaped Peter’s apartment and made his way to the Nemeton, the distress and pure destructive rage that was poisoning the land around the Nemeton brought Stiles to his knees. He dropped into a meditative state and sent the moon out to calm down the Nemeton. The Nemeton tried to lash out at first, but the moon gently sat and calmed them down. The magic from the moon is a force of peace for everything that worked in the night, especially beacons like the Nemeton. Stiles hadn’t wanted to leave when the sun was rising but he knew that his the shadow double he had left behind wouldn’t hold up against Peter’s full attention. </p>
<p>Stiles went back the next night, but had to skip the next night. He hadn’t realized the toll of emotionally comforting a magic tree until he’d lost himself in Peter’s kitchen. Safe to say he decided to start making progress instead of letting the Nemeton freak out for another night. He was there now, the moon was there, the Nemeton could get a handle on itself. </p>
<p>So on the fourth night, Stiles showed up prepared. He reached into his bag and pulled out magical item after magical talisman after magical totem. Stiles was going to begin cleansing and then he would begin fixing. It was a long process, several weeks worth of cleansing and banishing dark spirits and leeches from the Nemeton, and every second, rage built up in Stiles. He could understand that Scott didn’t want to involve magic in his pack, Stiles was the reason after all, but he couldn’t find sympathy in himself for neglecting the magic of your pack lands. That is inherent pack magic, not outside forces at work. </p>
<p>Stiles only solace was that he knew Peter would stand behind him no matter what, even with the secret that he’s been keeping for years. </p>
<p>One piece of solace wasn’t enough for what was happening, though, so Stiles started a mission to gather more information. He started at night, casting shielding spells and sneaking into the preserve, noting the timing of guards and watches and what kind of creatures they were. He should have been surprised at the amount of weapons and man-made tools of destruction that were hiding in the forest, but if he took even a second to think about Allison, the surprise shifted to resigned acceptance. But even this information wasn’t enough, so Stiles brought in Peter. They started to go on runs in the preserve. After the first one, when Peter told him that he knew Stiles had a secret, Stiles was much less worried about casting spells and keeping Scott’s pack unaware of their presence. </p>
<p>What Stiles gathered was concerned. Scott was not the one in charge, this large pack was in the hands of the hunters. But the most worrying thing that Stiles observed was about the pack members themselves.</p>
<p>“Have a nice day at work, Peter. See you this evening!” Stiles cheekily waves him away.</p>
<p>“Bye, Stiles.” Peter lifts his hand in a gentle wave as he walks out the door. Stiles waits half an hour to make absolutely sure that Peter has left and is not coming back before pulling his phone out and calling one of the only contacts in his phone. </p>
<p>“ColeSlaw! What’s up dude!” Wilson’s cheery voice bubbles through the phone. Stiles can hear shifting and then a shout comes through his speaker, “Aria, Stiles is on the phone!”</p>
<p>Stiles doesn’t hear the response but he knows Wilson is paying attention when he says, “No, but seriously dude, what’s going on? We haven't talked in ages”</p>
<p>“Ok, so, I have a really quick question. Hypothetically, if a werewolf pack alpha was being controlled by an outside force, what would the impact be on the pack members?”</p>
<p>“Well, depends on the kind of control, the pack, the size, and the alpha’s awareness of it. Hypothetically, what pack?”</p>
<p>“Hypothetically, the McCall pack.”</p>
<p>“Fuck, the McCall pack? The shit we’ve been hearing isn’t fake?”</p>
<p>“<em>Hypothetically</em>, Wilson! Let’s pretend that the alpha has no idea, the pack is huge, and the control has ill intent.”</p>
<p>“Since we are pretending, I can definitely go into the gory horrid details, if you want. Or I can give the short answer of ‘that shit’s gotta get fixed fucking fast or it’s gonna blow up like a nuke.’” Stiles hears fumbling on the other line and then Aria's kinder voice is on the phone.</p>
<p>“Assuming that all of this is fake, your best course of energy is to dismantle the dark energy from the bottom to the top, take away their ammunition before they can use it, you know? The deeper the control, the more fear and fight back you are going to receive.” Aria lectured, putting it much more succinctly until she just had to say, “But Wilson’s right. If you let it brew for too long, it’s ‘gonna blow up like a nuke.’” She did a hilarious caricature of Wilson’s voice, at least, it would have been hilarious if Stiles wasn’t going into a mild panic.</p>
<p>“Ok, great, great, great. Nice. So, fix it fast or ruin the lives of a shit ton of people. <em>Excellent</em>.”</p>
<p>“Is there anything we can do, Stiles?” It’s Wilson’s voice again and Stiles figures they put him on speaker. </p>
<p>“No, no I think this is something I need to do alone. I should’ve never let it get this far anyways.”</p>
<p>“So you are connected to the McCall’s!” Wilson sounded much too proud for his own good.</p>
<p>“Wilson, not now!” Aria scolds, and there’s a thud that suspiciously sounds like her fist hitting Wilson’s arm. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I got connections. Wanna hear something crazier? I am living with Peter Hale.” Stiles was going to keep many of his secrets, but he’d been waiting to give this one away for ages, ever since Wilson told him about the settled energy system created from when the Hales lived in New York. Even their sudden disappearance and the deaths that were left behind didn’t harm the infrastructure and it made. </p>
<p>“You’re what?”</p>
<p>“Oh you heard me.”</p>
<p>“Stiles what the SHIT? Why only reveal all these secrets when you are across the country? I’m gonna come find you if you aren’t careful!”</p>
<p>“If you have to, you should probably wait until I’ve got this pack figured out.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah.” Wilson’s tone dropped and Stiles was pretty sure he’d forgotten the topic of the call. </p>
<p>“Thank you for your help. I guess I have some work to do.”</p>
<p>“Guess so. If you have any questions, just give us a call, ok?”</p>
<p>“Ok.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Stiles had thousands of questions, but he knew that these could only be answered by one person: Scott McCall himself. But then there was the dilemma of revealing himself to his childhood best friend. It would be better if he just ripped on the bandaid and showed up to their base, but he kind of wanted to make a big entrance, sue him. He decided on doing both. </p>
<p>Stile was sitting in Lydia’s car, having an internal panic attack. It wasn’t too late to turn back (it totally was), he could just tell Lydia he wasn’t ready (he totally was), Lydia would understand (no she wouldn’t). All of his excuses were being shot down by a voice that sounded uncannily like Peter and Stiles was running out of reasons to not go, and was coming up with reasons he should bust down the door.</p>
<p>“Stiles, stop panicking. He’s still your childhood best friend. Even if he’s angry, he’s not going to do anything, not at this point.”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Lyds! I know that! I just… I’m nervous, alright.”</p>
<p>“Yeah yeah and I was nervous when I applied to college.”</p>
<p>“No you weren’t.”</p>
<p>“Ok, fine. Bad example. But seriously, either get out of my car now, willingly, or I’m going to yank you out and then your big entrance will be ruined.”</p>
<p>“Fine! I’m going. I’ll see you soon.”</p>
<p>“See you later!” Lydia kissed her fingertips and pressed them towards him as he walked around the front of the car towards the pack house. His scent was still muted with magic, and he intended to drop that spell only when he was at the door, in case he really needed to turn back. </p>
<p>He admired the house, knowing that this was what Scott had always wanted. The fence, the bright blue paint, the little swinging gate that most people could take a big step over. It was all very Scott, but the sensors and the automatic weapons trained on Stiles were very much touches of Allison. Stiles wondered if Scott even knew they existed as he pushed a tiny burst of electricity through his feet and froze any electronics in the house.</p>
<p>He reached the front door and released his grasp on the scent blocking spell as he reached forwards to grab the door handle. Stiles had the brilliant forethought to check for runes before he touched anything, not pleased to find a couple wards that would seriously damage any magic user that was there without permission of the alpha or alpha mate (which for some reason, Stiles was pretty sure didn't happen very often). He sent a bolt of magic through the wards, demolishing them, and swung the door open.</p>
<p>The sound of at least a dozen guns being un-holstered and cocked towards him was his welcome, and though he was expecting it, it was unnerving. </p>
<p>“I come back for the first time in four years to visit my best friend and this is the welcome I get?” Stiles swung his arms (expertly covered in long sleeves despite the warm weather) open in a placating manner, a smile bright on his face. </p>
<p>“Alpha, someone says they’re here for a visit.” Someone called. Stiles' eyes weren’t fast enough to track the speaker, but it was a gruff voice that commanded control. It lacked the intonation (and also spat the word ‘Alpha’) of someone supernatural, so Stiles decided that many of these people must be hunters.</p>
<p>“Who is it?” Stiles perked up at Scott’s voice, travelling from what he assumed was a living room.</p>
<p>“Name?” The same gruff voice barked at Stiles.</p>
<p>“Why Stiles Stilinski, of course!”</p>
<p>“Says it’s Stiles!” This time Stiles noticed who was speaking. It was a tall, broad man with long hair tied at the nape of his neck. He looked about as tough as his voice made him out to be, and if Stiles were a lesser man, he would’ve been terrified of those calculating eyes. But Stiles had seen worse, so he stood his ground.</p>
<p>“Stiles?” A large thump and some scrambling came from the direction of Scott’s voice. A blur of motion leapt through the crowd of hunters and landed on Stiles chest, squeezing him tight. Stiles noticed the tightening grip on the guns around the room, but it didn’t matter. He hugged Scott back, trying to match his energy even as the wretched scent of poisoned pack bonds plugged Stiles’ nose. The fact that Stiles wasn’t even a shifter made the entire experience so much worse. A magic user, even one so in tune with shifter magic, should never be able to sense pack bonds they aren’t a part of. </p>
<p>“Scotty! What’s up? How’ve you been?”</p>
<p>“I could ask you the same thing, Stiles! Come on, come see Allison. I want you to see the pack, too!”</p>
<p>“Let’s do it!”</p>
<p>Stiles lets himself be pulled past the crowd of guards, making eye contact with the one who spoke earlier to see a flash of concern on his face. He wasn’t sure what the concern was for, but Stiles made a mental note to do some research on the human members of the pack. Stiles kept a very close watch on his sleeves to make sure they didn’t ride up and expose his tattoos as Scott yanked and shoved him through the house towards what Stiles could only assume was his backyard. </p>
<p>“Ally! Guess who’s here?”</p>
<p>“Who is it, Scott?”</p>
<p>“Look!” Scott shoved Stiles in front of himself and threw his arms into jazz hands.</p>
<p>“Oh. Stiles. When did you arrive?” Stiles had to force himself to not recoil from feelings of hatred and distaste that were suddenly directed to him. He was also faced with the source of the poisoned pack bonds. He had known it was Allison, but for some reason, he’d been trying to hold onto hope that the destruction was from some other source.</p>
<p>“Hey, Allison! How’s it going? Pack house looks amazing!” He plastered his old Stiles smile on his face and slouched into the demeanor he knew was familiar to those around him. This was who they thought he was. </p>
<p>“Thanks.” Allison turned back to the laptop in front of her and frowned. </p>
<p>“Come on, Stiles, let’s go say hi to everyone else!”</p>
<p>“Let’s!”</p>
<p>Stiles was introduced to so many people he forgot most of their names. For some reason, he was not introduced to any of the hunters that seemed to be acting as guards. Scott only introduced Stiles to people who had two sided bonds, the people who chose to bond with Scott after he’d adopted them into the pack. None of the hunters had two way bonds, only the option to accept a bond from Scott that they all seemed adamant to ignore. </p>
<p>“Hey, Scotty. Who’s the militia?”</p>
<p>“Oh they’re Allison’s family. She wanted them to help protect the pack, so they get to live here and watch over everyone who comes during the day.”</p>
<p>“Does any of your pack live here?”</p>
<p>“Nope! This is where Ally and I live, the pack finds other areas in Beacon Hills. The hunters stay because they are Ally’s family.”</p>
<p>Stiles barely refrained from bursting in confused rage right there. “That’s interesting.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it works for us! The pack is happy, and so is Ally, so it’s awesome. We don’t even have to worry about threats or anything.”</p>
<p>“How do you do pack bonding?” Stiles hoped that Scott at least did this part of the system correctly. Maybe some of what Derek and Peter had taught him had stuck. </p>
<p>“Well, they are all here aren’t they?”</p>
<p>“But like, one on one and group <em>pack</em> bonding?”</p>
<p>“Stiles, they are here, aren’t they?” Scott said it slower this time, like Stiles didn’t hear him the first time. </p>
<p>“Oh, yeah. Silly me. Well, I should probably get going, I’ll be in town for a while, so just call me if you wanna hang out or catch up, I guess!”</p>
<p>“Alright. I’ll talk to Ally to see when I’m free and call you then!” Scott brought him to the door and Stiles brushed past that guard from earlier. He left a magic marker on the man, feeling something different from him than the fear from the pack and the disinterested disconnection from the hunters. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Stiles walked around for a while, trying to ditch his tails naturally before giving up and activating the disappearance runes on his boots. He lost them quickly after that, but waited to go back to Peter’s for another few hours. He passed the time by walking through downtown and then going to the grocery for some things he and Peter were running low on. When he was sure any tracking had been abandoned, he finally went home. </p>
<p>Peter hadn’t come back yet, so Stiles got started on a nice dinner. He was going to need all the ammunition he could have to get Peter’s forgiveness for seeing a possibly hostile pack without protection. Stiles sensed Peter’s arrival and then heard it when he came tearing through the apartment to the kitchen. </p>
<p>“Why the hell does it smell like Scott McCall?”</p>
<p>“I went to give the McCall pack a visit earlier.”</p>
<p>“You <em>what</em>?” Peter hissed. His eyes were flaring a little and his suit was still fully buttoned. His tie hadn’t even been loosened yet.</p>
<p>“I saw Scott and Allison and the pack house today.”</p>
<p>“And you didn’t tell me you were going anywhere, why?”</p>
<p>“Because I didn’t want to worry you.” Stiles looked back at the pot that was supposed to be boiling soon. </p>
<p>“How do you think I’m feeling right now?” Peter straightened up, but his eyes still hadn’t lost their bright blue glow. </p>
<p>“You better not be worried, I am clearly fine. And I didn’t lead anyone here.”</p>
<p>“Of course I’m worried! What if you weren’t fine, Stiles?”</p>
<p>“But I am! And I really need to talk to you about them.”</p>
<p>“Can you please promise not to do anything so dangerous without telling me, please? Then we can talk about their pack bonds and what we are going to do about them.”</p>
<p>“First of all, how the hell do you know what I need to talk about? Second of all, I will try to not do anything so dangerous.”</p>
<p>“No! I’m not taking that anymore. I’m not going to lose you, not if I can do something about it!” Stiles took a deep breath and turned to face Peter. He hadn’t noticed the tension building up in the man, and Stiles was sorry to see the fear deep in his eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. I promise.” Stiles and Peter hadn’t had the discussion about what their relationship was, but they both knew it was more than friendship, and Stiles had just come dangerously close to hurting that bond. “I’ll be safer.” </p>
<p>“Thank you.” Peter ran his fingers through his hair and scrubbed his face. Stiles felt bad for all the stress that had built up in the man without Stiles even noticing. “So what did you want to talk about?”</p>
<p>“Their bonds are so bad, Peter. They’re disgusting. I could feel them just from seeing the pack, it was horrible.” Stiles shivered at remembering the feeling. </p>
<p>“You could feel them? This wasn’t you reaching out with magic?”</p>
<p>“No Peter. I’m positive that even a pure human would be able to sense something wrong with this house. It felt bad. Like death or something.”</p>
<p>“Gods, I can tell you’re not lying, but I can’t even imagine what it must be like.”</p>
<p>“It was horrible. I talked to someone who knows a lot about energy and he said we have to start dismantling it from the bottom to the top.”</p>
<p>“<em>We</em>?”</p>
<p>“Oh! Well I thought you’d want to help but you don’t have to. I can do it alone…”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to make you do it alone. I just thought you wanted to do this alone.” Peter had a smirk on his face, he was intentionally egging Stiles on, and he decided to not take the bait.</p>
<p>“Oh come on now, Peter. Are you telling me you wanted to go to Scott’s pack house? Cause I can put in a good word.” </p>
<p>“Oh hell no. I’m just glad to be included.” Peter nodded as if he knew everything in the world and was blessing Stiles with his help.</p>
<p>“So then let’s get started. There’s a hunter that I think we can reach to get some information from. He seemed oddly disinterested from the entire situation.”</p>
<p>“You want to get connections with the hunter pack from a hunter? Seems like an excellent idea to me.”</p>
<p>Stiles sent him a very strong glare but there was no real heat behind it. “Yes, Peter. A hunter. He seemed like an outlier, someone disconnected.”</p>
<p>“You’re going to be the death of me, Stiles.”</p>
<p>“You know I try!”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Stiles tracked down the man in hours. It was very suspicious, but Stiles wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He followed the man around town, keeping his location shielded from searching eyes and noses, but not trying to be very subtle. Stiles wanted to see the man’s skills, and really wanted to see how he reacted to being cornered alone with a magic user. </p>
<p>He got his chance when the man stepped into a familiar coffee shop. Stiles dropped a charm that made the door disappear to people searching for it and followed him in. He saw the man sitting at a table, staring directly at him. He walked over, keeping his face bright and his steps light.</p>
<p>“Howdy! I’m Stiles. We met the other day at Scott’s get together.”</p>
<p>“I’m aware.”</p>
<p>“Good! I was wondering why you don’t have any connection to… the other people who were invited.”</p>
<p>“Pack connections don’t appeal to me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, so we are going for the technical terms.” Stiles glanced around the cafe, hoping no one could hear their conversation. It didn’t matter if they talked about it, but Stiles was about to reveal his magic to this stranger, and he didn’t need that information to make it back to Scott. “Can I tell you a secret?”</p>
<p>“You’re magic?”</p>
<p>“The hell, dude? Hiding something, are you?” Stiles felt like cold water had just been poured over his head. He’d known something was off about the man, but there had been no signs that he specialized in magic hunting. He’d barely even heard about those hunters before. Magic users who’d lost their powers to another and turned to taking down the practice of magic in its entirety. </p>
<p>“Oh relax. I’m not going to turn you in. I only turned to hunters as a way to build up social status. I still believe in the ancient practices and I’m completely against the cluster fuck of Allison Argent.”</p>
<p>“Excellent! You wanna help me out, then? Magic user to magic user?”</p>
<p>“What would I get out of that?” The hunter sat back in his chair, eyeing Stiles with suspicion. </p>
<p>“I’ll give you my name.”</p>
<p>The hunters eyes widened and he sat forward sharply. “Your <em>name</em> name?”</p>
<p>“Sure. Why not? Your help would change the course of so much life, it’s only worth it to give you my name.”</p>
<p>“Is it that bad already?” The hunter seemed surprised. </p>
<p>Stiles realized that his disconnection from magic must be quite recent if he’s still out of tune. Even humans tend to have some sort of connection to magic, some sort of flow within its patterns. “Worse. I have to start from the bottom.”</p>
<p>“Damn. You should start with non-wolf shifters, especially the ones not close in age to Scott and Allison. There’s a couple kids and a couple adults and they are practically shunned from the pack.”</p>
<p>“Gods,” Stiles sighed, letting his hands fall into his hands, “it just keeps getting worse. First he doesn’t have pack bonding, now he doesn’t even connect evenly to his pack! How did anyone let it go so long?”</p>
<p>“Not everyone thinks to burn up the wards in the front door.”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah… So those had been used before, then.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. It’s pretty dark too, they’re gnarly wards. I had to redo them once I noticed they were gone. That was fun to do subtly, so thanks.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I can’t say I’m very sorry because I was not about to get hit by that rune, but thank you for replacing it. How long have you been with the pack?”</p>
<p>“About a year and a half by now.”</p>
<p>“And how has it changed in just the past year?”</p>
<p>“It got bigger, which was surprising because there’s still only one alpha. This pack reaches almost the entire coast and Scott’s the only power house.”</p>
<p>“He doesn’t have branches of pack?”</p>
<p>“Nope.”</p>
<p>Stiles dropped his head again, so confused as to how he could possibly have let it get this bad. How had no one else tried to help Scott down the right path? Then Stiles remembered that the Hales did try, and Scott had pushed them away and threatened them at every turn. “Ok, so I have a lot of work to do. Should I start at the other branches or do I even need to go to them?”</p>
<p>“At this point, you should just work with this main area. It wouldn’t even damage the pack strength to drop those people, they’re closer to honorary members than actual pack.”</p>
<p>“Ok. Well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but it would be great if you could avoid telling the pack that I’m a magic user, as that would not be good for them if they came after me. My scent is not on you, so don’t worry about that. See you around.”</p>
<p>“Stay safe, Stiles.”</p>
<p>“I’ll try!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed! The next chapter should be around the same length, maybe shorter, and it will be Stiles-centric. Similar type of writing, a background about Stiles.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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